Nude, With Calla Lilies
by Brookebynature
Summary: When Lucas meets Brooke, the subject of his wife's latest painting, though refusing to act on their feelings, sparks fly between the pair. But when he discovers there is more to her than she's letting on, marriages and pride are left in ruins. BL
1. Golden Shimmer

**Author- **Emily-Grace Mendes (Brookebynature)

**Disclaimer- **I don't own One Tree Hill or any of the characters featured. Ha! Now you can't sue me :)

**A/N- **I know..I bet you guys are sick of me by now haha. But I get bored with just one story, so I thought if I alternate between updating this and 'These Arms' I might come up with better ideas. Don't think I'm not going to update that, I have the next chapter almost finished :) And if you haven't read it, GO READ! And review please :P

Hope you enjoy this, and please give me your feedback at the end xxx

**

* * *

**

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 1: Golden Shimmer

She was naked, beautiful calla lilies covering the skin of her breasts as her hazel eyes look straight at him. They beamed health as he surveyed her fair skin, shiny brunette hair covering delicate shoulders, a few wisps framing her face as creamy-white poked out from underneath.

'_Nude, With Calla Lilies' _Read the title, the artist his own wife, who was busy talking through a method used in creation of another of her works, a more moody piece that conveyed anger and depression over a highway of lights.

"You chose a good piece to look at." Spoke a raspy, shiveringly-sexy voice in his ear. He wasn't sure whether to turn around, but when a hand rested on his shoulder, and he felt hair tickling his neck just ever-so-slightly, he couldn't help himself.

"It's pretty good, even if I do say so myself."

Her face matched that of the goddess in the picture, and her sparkling hazel eyes were enough to makes his limbs weaken. Her skin and lips were pale, perhaps a slick of gloss left upon them by a delicate brush, while her eyes were painted with a golden shimmer to match the gold dress she was wearing.

"You're from the picture." He told her, dipping his head, partly in embarrassment that he'd just stated the obvious, partly because he didn't want to stop looking at her. Either way, he knew he had to, yet his blue eyes were still able to focus on a thin strap of her black sandals.

She nodded. "That's me."

He afforded a quick glance towards his wife, dressed in a simple but beautifully elegant black cocktail dress. She didn't need to impress-the night wasn't about her. It was about the paintings. Still engrossed in conversation about essential tools, he offered her a half smile for blind eyes before turning his attentions back to the sultry brunette before him.

She laughed lightly, displaying dimples either side of her lips as she shook her head. "Brooke Davis." She held her hand out to him. "And you?"

"Um Lucas." He told her, a nervous smile spreading across his face, never quite reaching his eyes for fear of guilt overtaking him. He shouldn't have bothered trying to mask it. Guilt for the feeling she was giving him was there anyway.

"Scott." He quickly added, taking her hand in a loose grip, before she tightened her fingers around his rougher skin and felt his palms start to sweat.

-

Art hadn't been important to Lucas Scott before he'd met Peyton Sawyer. He rarely took the time to stand and look at paintings, least of all the ones that resembled ridiculous things such as trash cans or unimportant household equipment. He still failed to fully appreciate the value of certain pieces of art, preferring photographs of landscapes or other features of nature.

But he was married now, ironically, to an artist whom he had met at a charity exhibition. Lucas wasn't one to visit galleries or showcases, but after being dragged along by his brother's wife Haley, who had insisted on having a man's opinion on a certain piece she wished to buy, Lucas had met blonde-haired, blue-eyed Peyton Sawyer.

She was everything he had thought of back in high school, when girls rarely spent time with him and he'd had to imagine conversations with girls, just to relate to the shows on t.v.

She was sharp and funny, sharing the same outlook on life that he did, her sense of humour a match for his own as pale skin met his tan, and blue eyes locked on blue.

They had married in a small church, decorated with lemon roses, even though Peyton claimed not to like flowers. It had only been their families there to watch as both promised to love until death do them part, and stay faithful as rings were exchanged, and once bare fingers now owned shiny gold bands.

They lived in the suburbs, just outside of New York, in a house large enough for children and pets, yet none had arrived. Summer nights were warm and hazy, and Winter nights were cold and brisk, with snow covering the ground for the duration of the Christmas holidays.

Peyton didn't like the holidays so much, preferring to vacation somewhere to avoid what she termed 'commercialisation' which had ruined the true meanings of each holy holiday. Lucas would have preferred to stay in their house with it's large tree, exchanging gifts with his family like he had always done when he was younger. Now he was nearing thirty, and family tradition didn't seem so important any more, not when he had a new family now.

-

"Do you like the painting?" Brooke asked, her feet inching her body closer to Lucas as he tried to shift his weight from one foot to the other in a desperate bid to stop his legs from shaking.

"I love the painting."

"She's an amazing artist." Brooke continued, fingering the picture, even though the sign above clearly stated not to touch. "I love the detail she includes in every painting."

"She is amazing." Lucas agreed, turning his head to witness Peyton laughing at something a lady in a navy floor-length dress was telling her. "She painted a great adaptation of Fifth Avenue that hangs in my living room."

"You have many of her paintings?" Brooke asked.

"All over my house." He replied simply. "She's my wife."

Brooke raised an eyebrow at him before picking up his left hand with the gold ring on his fourth finger. "You kept that one to yourself."

Lucas shrugged, trying his best to avoid Brooke somewhat questioning eyes. "You didn't ask."

"Are you guys happy?" She asked, receiving a frown from the man in front of her.

"Yes."

Her stare was interrupted by a man accidentally bumping into Lucas, apologising before moving to the next painting along the back wall of the room. He wondered whether the temperature had suddenly decreased, making the white walls seem even colder and the wood floor even harsher, or whether he simply hadn't felt it before.

"Lucas!" He took the hand placed on the bottom of his waist, forcing a smile as Peyton beamed at him, flushed with excitement and enthusiasm. "Oh, Hi Brooke."

The brunette offered a small wave and a dimpled smile.

"I was just going to introduce you two but I guess you've already met."

Lucas nodded, entwining his fingers with those of his wife as Brooke smiled back at them, giving Lucas a highly uneasy feeling.

_Had Peyton told her there was something wrong with their marriage? Was she having an affair? Did she think he was having an affair?_

"Brooke was so great at the shoot. It would have killed me to stay still for that long." Peyton laughed lightly.

"I wasn't that great." Brooke replied modestly. "I kept dropping that one flower, do you remember?"

Lucas looked between the two women as they recalled their day spent making the painting that had become a focal point of the room, with guests admiring both Brooke's beauty and Peyton's elegant brush strokes.

Peyton thanked people for their compliments, blushing when told that she should be more than proud of herself for her achievements.

-

Lying in bed later that night, with an arm underneath Peyton's naked body, Lucas lay restless, having failure sleeping. His wife's lips stayed closed as he brushed them with his own, her eyes never once fluttering open to witness his angst.

Brooke's question replayed in his head as he thought out the possible reasons for her asking whether the two of them were happy. With no ideas as to why things between the two of them might not be as good as he had thought, Lucas ran a hand through his blonde hair, stopping at his neck to rub harshly enough to leave a red mark behind.

"Lucas?" Peyton questioned her husband's state, eyes tired yet his head refusing to let them rest.

"Are you happy Peyton?" He asked, continuing to stare at the ceiling. She sat up a little, confusion evident in her face as she waited for him to elaborate.

"Of course I'm happy." She replied. "Are you?"

"Yeah, I just…I thought you might not be."

She laughed a little, shaking her head as she laid it back down on the pillow. "I'm happy."

As Lucas watched Peyton drift back off to sleep, her words weren't enough to convince him. The more he thought, the more he wondered whether _he _was actually happy. He failed to remove Brooke's face from his mind, able to recall almost every detail about the stunning feature of his wife's latest masterpiece.

"_Those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love: It is the faithless who know love's tragedies." _

* * *

Please review guys xxx 


	2. Secret Meeting

**A/N- **Many, many thanks for your reviews last chapter guys :) Here's the second chapter (a little later than I expected to post it, but a chapter nonetheless lol) so I hope you enjoy xxx

**

* * *

**

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 2: Secret Meeting

"Can I get a black coffee to go?" Lucas asked the waiter behind the counter at one of the many coffee houses scattered across Manhattan. As a writer, coffee was his drug, his relaxant, his comfort after hours spent typing away at his laptop, a computer screen one of his closest companions.

The waiter nodded, and took Lucas' change, setting the paper cup underneath the machine.

"Lucas?"

The voice he'd managed to forget after a couple weeks filled his ears once again, and as he turned around, his eyes once again met those belonging to Brooke Davis.

"Brooke…Hi." He stuttered a little, his smile awkward as she set an empty coffee jug down on the counter beside him.

"Can you just pass me a couple napkins?" She asked the waiter, handing them to a lady at a nearby table before joining her co-worker behind the counter. "How are you?"

"Good." He nodded, as if trying to convince himself of that too. He wasn't sure why, because in fact, it was the truth up until a few seconds ago when his knees went a little weaker and his heart beat a little faster. "And you?"

She curled up her nose, her lips then curving into a smile. "Good."

"I didn't know you worked here."

"I'm just here while I audition for different jobs." She said. "The work's not always as flowing as I'd like it to be."

He can't imagine why not. To him, she's beautiful, and worthy of any modelling job out there.

"Your coffee sir." The waiter tells him, handing another napkin over for him to take. "Sorry, we're out of cardboard to go round the outside."

Brooke rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sorry, that was me. I forgot to put in the order."

Lucas chuckled, his eyes focussing on Brooke's brunette plaits.

"I have to wear my hair up like this for work." She laughed. "No wonder I don't get many jobs at the moment."

"I'm sure you will." He tells her, gold wedding ring prominent on his left hand.

The customer behind him in the queue cleared his throat, silently telling Lucas to hurry up as he tipped a couple dollars in the dish by the till. He wished her good luck, with a small smile and a raise of the fingers on his right hand, his left one holding the case containing his laptop as he made his way to the door.

"And for the record, I think your hair looks cute like that."

She laughed, raising an eyebrow at him, calling his name just before he walked away.

"Hey Lucas! I was thinking maybe we could get together one night and have dinner or something?"

He forced a smile nervously, his hands starting to sweat again. "Dinner?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Just as friends. I'd like to get to know you better."

Lucas shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hoping that his brain would make up its mind about what to reply.

He simply nodded in agreement. "That sounds good."

"Great." She smiled, the waiter also clearing his throat at her as the number of customers grew by three. "Um, say around eight tomorrow night? At that little Italian place on East 17th?

"Okay."

"See you tomorrow." She told him before he finally managed to make his legs walk him out of that coffee house and back towards his office.

-

"Hey babe." Peyton greeted him as he walked in through the door to their house, leaving his keys on the side table in the hallway. It took him a few minutes to realise that she was dressed up a little more than usual, in a skirt that fell just below the knee, teamed with black boots and a light blue sweater.

He remembered when they first started dating, and she would wear simple jeans with converse, a t-shirt with the name of some band he's never heard of emblazoned across the front in white writing. Now, her wardrobe had changed, or evolved, into one full of cocktail dresses and smart suits for the many exhibitions and showcases she had to attend.

When he thought about it, he was sure their lives had started to change right about the same time as her wardrobe had.

"Are you going out?" He asked puzzled.

"I thought we could go out for dinner." She told him. "Maybe try that Italian place on East 17th. I've heard their Penne Verde is lovely."

Lucas nodded, a lump forming in his throat. "Or we could try that new steak house. One of the guys from the office went the other week and he said it was nice."

"Luke, you always have steak. Can't we just try something different? I've been wanting to go there for weeks."

"Okay then." He conceded. "But tonight? We could always cook pasta here."

"Is it the restaurant or do you just not want to go out?" Peyton asked him a little annoyed. "We haven't been out for dinner for ages. You're always working."

"And you're not?"

"I'm trying to establish myself Lucas."

"Well I'm trying to make a name for myself in writing!"

"Are we actually arguing about this?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck a little harshly. "No, I'm sorry, I'm just a little tired. You watch t.v or something while I get ready."

Peyton smiled a little as he kissed her forehead, his frustration concealed by turning away quickly to walk upstairs, his mind racing as he realised the same staff might be working the next night when he was due to eat out with Brooke.

But she'd said they were only going to dinner as friends. It wasn't a secret meeting. So Lucas couldn't figure out why he couldn't bring himself to tell Peyton.

-

"I'm thinking about a follow-up painting to the one I did with Brooke." Peyton told him over her pasta and their shared ciabatta bread.

Lucas feigned a look of confused before Peyton elaborated.

"Remember the woman you were talking to at the exhibition?"

"Oh yeah."

"Well that painting did so well and you can just pick out her beauty easily, I was thinking I might paint her in a field full of wild flowers." She told him. "If she'll agree that is."

Lucas nodded, his hands pressed together underneath the table. "Sounds good."

"Are you okay?" Peyton asked. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine." He lied. "Just a little tired."

"You should take some time off. You work too hard Luke."

Lucas nodded half-heartedly, his eyes burning with guilt for trying to cover up what was essentially nothing. He wasn't sure why he'd lied about not being able to remember Brooke, but he had, and he couldn't change that.

The rest of their meal was spent chatting about mutual friends and family members, the sharing of news that a couple they had dined with a few times were expecting their first child, and that Peyton felt they should change the colour of their bedroom from blue to a deep red.

She'd never been one for bright or pastel colours, instead choosing shades of grey or dark green to cover their walls in, the large windows in their house meaning that the rooms didn't appear too dark.

Lucas didn't bother to tell her that he would have preferred a more relaxing colour such as cream.

He wondered whether Brooke's house was filled with all things girly and pink, or whether it appeared more like a show house, with panoramic views of the city from large leather couches and polished silver stools at a breakfast bar.

"Lucas?" Peyton asked with a light laugh. "Did you hear anything that I just said?"

"Uh…that you want to paint our bedroom red."

"And that we should try making more time for each other on an evening. Maybe we could do this more often?"

He nodded with a fake smile and thoughts of Brooke still clouding his head. He'd begun to think that if whatever was going on between the two of them was nothing, then he had _everything_ to worry about.

"_When love becomes laboured we welcome an act of infidelity towards ourselves to free us from fidelity" _

* * *

Please review xxx 


	3. Just Friends

**A/N- **Sorry it's been such a while since I last updated, but ff has been playing up again and it's really annoying me that I don't get alerts and neither do other people. So hopefully things are back to normal, and I'll get all those story alerts from others that I should have had weeks ago lol. Thank you for all of your reviews last chapter. Hope you enjoy this, and please don't forget to review :)

**

* * *

**

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 3: Just Friends

She was beautiful. Lucas couldn't deny that, nobody could deny that, and as she reached the front of the tiny Italian restaurant, her dimpled smile did nothing to make his desire to be near her go away.

"You look nice." He told her a little uneasily. He could hardly tell her that she might possibly be the most beautiful woman he'd seen, so settling for something more on the line of friends (because that's what she'd said she wanted them to be) would have to do. Besides, he was married.

"Thanks." She smiled back at him. "I like that shirt, makes your eyes stand out."

Lucas looked down, a forced smile on his face. "Peyton bought me this shirt."

"Peyton has good taste."

Their table was set at the back of the small building, a little away from the other tables much to Lucas' relief. He hadn't wanted to be recognised from the previous night, and being sat in the middle of the room might have brought unwanted attention.

It was when they were contemplating appetisers that the rock on her left hand caught his eye. It was huge and shiny and everything he'd expect a supermodel to wear. But it was on her fourth finger. And Brooke hadn't mentioned a fiancé.

"What?" She asked, an eyebrow raised at him over her menu as he'd continued to stare at her hand.

"You're engaged?"

"No." Brooke shook her head. "I'm married actually. Have been for two years."

"You didn't mention him." Lucas said, wondering why there was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Brooke only shrugged. "You didn't ask. It didn't come up."

"But you didn't have a ring on when I saw you yesterday."

"What are you?" She laughed a little. "The jewellery police?"

Lucas shook his head. "Just seemed a little strange that you weren't wearing that ring yesterday."

Brooke frowned at him, her menu set back on the table. "I don't wear it for work in case the stone chips. Diamonds are expensive you know."

Lucas raised an eyebrow at her cocky nature. "So why don't you tell me about your husband?"

-

He'd found out, after some probing and question-avoiding that Brooke's husband was named Chase, and was the air to a fortune built up by his father in the shipping business. Lucas didn't ask for more details, but settled for knowing that Mr Adams was tall, dark and strikingly handsome, (how else would he have caught her eye?) and they had met through friends at one of Brooke's modelling auditions.

"So why the job as a waitress in that coffee shop?" Lucas asked as they walked through the night streets, the late Summer air warm and comforting. "I mean, you're married to a millionaire but you work in a coffee shop?"

Brooke only raised her eyebrow at him, flicking a stray wave of hair behind her shoulders. "I want my own money. I don't free-load off anyone."

"But surely he could help you with modelling jobs and stuff right? I mean, he must know people?"

"Look Lucas, if we're going to be friends, you're going to have to learn not to be so nosy."

"I'm only asking!" He replied indignantly.

So she shrugged then, her appearance smart, yet her mannerisms casual. "Chase isn't that keen on the whole modelling thing so I'd rather make my own way through that career. If he's not involved then he has no say in the jobs I take or the decisions I make."

Lucas was slightly confused as to why the two of them might not share decisions, but thinking about his own marriage, he wasn't one to judge.

"It's good." He told her.

"What is?"

"You making your own career."

Brooke nodded. "It'll be more satisfying if I finally make it."

"_When_." Lucas corrected.

"What?"

"_When _you finally make it. Not _if_."

-

It had been a long day. After completing an article for the company he worked for, Lucas had spent time working on the book he had decided to write in hope of becoming the author he'd always wanted to be. And at many hours past what was accepted as a decent time to come home from work, he'd finally made it back home, the welcome relief of the hallway greeting him like a hot bubble bath.

But she was there. Brooke Davis. (Or Brooke Davis-Adams, he wasn't quite sure.)

"You're late babe." Peyton told him, a glass of wine in one hand, legs folded as she sat on the carpet with swatches of different coloured woods in front of her. "You remember Brooke right?"

He took a breath, not knowing why because he had nothing to hide, (not really) before smiling. "From your painting."

Peyton nodded, standing up to kiss her husband. "Yeah, remember I told you I was thinking about doing a follow-up piece?"

He faked a frown, followed by false-realisation that they had indeed had the conversation she was talking about.

"Well we were just discussing that."

"Your wife's ideas are brilliant." Brooke told him, every ounce of sincerity in her voice hitting him like a slap across the face. He had no idea as to why she was pretending too, but if she was, then he would do nothing to jeopardise this.

"Well I certainly think so." Lucas replied, placing an arm briefly around Peyton's body to rub the small of her back. "I should go have a shower, leave you guys to it."

Peyton rolled her eyes as Lucas left the room, turning her attentions back to Brooke. "Sorry about that, he's probably just tired. He's been working all the time lately." She told Brooke, fingering the coloured wood on the coffee table.

"I know what you mean." Brooke laughed a little. "My husband spends that much time in the office I hardly see him."

"What does he do?"

"His father owns a shipping company so Chase deals with the paperwork and stuff." She laughed again. "I'm not quite sure to be honest."

"Well I'm never really sure what Lucas is writing, but if he wanted me to know I'm sure he'd tell me." Peyton smiled. "So I was thinking that if we do this painting in a poppy field, we could go for either the green edging or perhaps the red?"

Brooke nodded. "Sounds good."

-

"Your ring wasn't on your hand the day I met you." Lucas told Brooke in a single breath as he placed his hands on the edge of the counter. The coffee shop wasn't busy, and luckily (for her perhaps-he hadn't had the time to notice) her boss wasn't around.

"Excuse me?"

"Your ring, the one you were wearing the other night? It wasn't on your hand at the exhibition."

"So?"

"So you said you just didn't wear it for work."

"Lucas, what's your point?" Brooke frowned, notably confused.

"You flirt with me, ask me if my marriage is okay, ask me to meet up, never mentioning a husband, and then all of a sudden you wear this ring and tell me you're happily married."

"I never said I was _happily _married." She replied. "And for the record, I wasn't flirting."

"Then what are we doing?"

"Well I _thought _that I said I wanted us to be friends." Brooke raised an eyebrow. "Unless I wasn't clear on that?"

Lucas squinted at her, his blue eyes burning as her hazel ones seemed to stare straight through him. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want us to be friends?"

"Because I enjoyed your company that night." She replied simply. "Lucas, I'm not sure what you think I want from you."

"Then what was the other night all about? Meeting up at that little restaurant, it's not like it's a casual place for friends to hang out Brooke."

"I like the food there."

He lowered his head, eyes boring into the wooden floor as she stood in front of him, coffee jug in one hand, tongs in the other as she waited for him to say something, hair in a messy bun, face pure from make-up.

"I think we just had a misunderstanding." She tried to laugh, but it came out forced and fake.

"Yeah." Lucas whispered. "And I don't think we can be friends."

"Why not?"

"Because when I'm with you, you give me these feelings that…" He trailed off, realising that Brooke didn't need to any of it, because they wouldn't be anything more than acquaintances.

"That what?"

Lucas shook his head. "It doesn't matter, I should go."

He didn't want to tell her that when she was next to him, his arms would tingle, the feeling spreading over his body, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as her voice filled his ears, raspy echo after raspy echo replaying in his mind. He didn't want to tell her that when he had to leave, he was disappointed, like a child being dragged away from a fun birthday party, or that when he saw her with Peyton, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach, one of guilt that he could even think about betraying his wife. And he certainly didn't want to tell her that hearing she had a husband made him feel sick, that another man could touch her and hold her and have her body to himself, because Lucas knew she was too pure to have dirty hands grazing her skin.

But that was stupid, childish, ridiculous because they were both married, to different people, consenting adults with no need for a connection with each other. But they did, in fact, have a connection (at least Lucas felt so) and he couldn't help but think that she'd wanted to be anything more than just friends.

"Bye Brooke."

The door shut behind him, and the brunette beauty hoped that he would come back, even if it was to be just friends. Sure, she'd flirted and wanted more to begin with. But she hadn't known that he was happily married, and of all people, to the woman who could catapult her career. Yet now that she knew the two of them would never be anything, Brooke couldn't help but wonder what feelings she gave him, and whether they were the same ones he gave her.

And in that moment, Brooke knew that she and Lucas Scott had huge potential to be more than just friends.

* * *

Please review :) 


	4. Right Thing

**A/N- **BIG, BIG thanks to all of those loevly readers who reviewed last chapter, and with nothing else to say, on with chapter 4 :)

**

* * *

**

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 4: Right Thing

"Brooke was really…weird today." Peyton sighed, wrapping her arms around Lucas as he sat at the kitchen table, laptop closed in front of him. He tried to relax his body into her, but the more he tried, the stiffer he felt, and to avoid that crawling feeling across his skin, he made sure to dip his head a little as his girlfriend kissed his temple.

He hated feeling so guilty for something that hadn't even happened.

"Weird?" He questioned, not wanting to care, yet the second he'd heard Brooke's name, nothing else had mattered.

"Yeah, we'd talked about his whole painting thing, and when we met ready for the shoot, she said that maybe she would rethink things, and perhaps I could paint her in a couple weeks.

"Maybe she was just nervous." Lucas shrugged, half-wrestling himself out of Peyton's arms in an attempt to stand up. "Or maybe the setting was wrong."

"But we'd agreed the setting together, and even Brooke said that it was beautiful."

"Then I don't know." Lucas replied, a little abruptly.

"Don't you care?"

"About Brooke?" He asked cautiously, trying in vain to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. Of course he cared about her, but Peyton would wonder why. Lucas didn't even know himself.

"About me! This painting could mean a huge step in my career Lucas! Or don't you care about that?"

"How can you even ask that?" He shouted.

"I don't know, maybe because all you ever seem to do is spent time at the office, and if you're not there, you've got that damn computer in front of you anyway!"

"I'm writing a book." He told her. "I wasn't going to tell you until I'd finished, and this could mean a huge step in _my _career. Or don't _you _care about _that_?"

Peyton dropped her arms to her sides, huffing a breath of air out of her mouth. "Can I read it?" She asked softly.

"I haven't gotten very far." He replied. "And my characters aren't really developed yet."

"So I'll take a look after a couple chapters?"

Lucas smiled a little. "Sure."

"Are we okay Lucas?"

"What do you mean?"

"We never used to argue." Peyton sighed. "Now we seem to do it all the time."

"Maybe we're just tired." He offered, hoping that she would drop the subject. No, they weren't okay, because he was trying his best not to think about the girl she wanted to talk about, and she was too trusting to ever notice anything. "How about we take a vacation? Somewhere far away from here, just us, without work or friends. _Just us_?"

She kissed him softly, the tiniest of pecks on his cheek. "I'd love that."

-

"Why won't you work with Peyton?" Lucas demanded, slamming some coins down on the counter to pay for his coffee. "She needs this you know?"

Brooke's expression was one of anger, of disbelief that someone might speak to her like that.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Someone who's trying to do the right thing."

She paused, changed tempo as she cocked just one of her eyebrows at him. "And what might that be?"

Lucas shook his head, running a hand over his face. Sometimes Brooke Davis just didn't make any sense to him. "I don't know any more."

"Then I'll make you a deal." She told him. "I'll pour you some coffee on the house and you can figure out the 'right thing'" Her hands extend to the air to mock-quote him. "_If _you tell me what that is."

He nodded slowly, gratefully taking the mug that Brooke had set in front of him.

Though late Summer, the air around New York was still ridiculously hot and sticky, a result of global warming, said the experts. Lucas hoped for a change in the temperature soon, because he was far more comfortable in sweaters and jackets, and as good an invention as air conditioning was, he much preferred to see the coffee guy in the office warming himself up by the radiators during the Winter months. Summer to Lucas had always been somewhat of a drag.

His coffee had long since gone cold by the time he had actually figured out what the right thing was, and he only frowned into the mug when he realised that he really should get back to the office.

"So?" She questioned, hazel eyes twinkling at him as he reached the front of her counter.

"What?"

"Have you figured out the 'right thing' yet?"

"Yeah." Lucas nodded, reaching into his pocket.

"So what is it?"

"It's paying you for this coffee." He replied, placing the correct amount of change in front of Brooke. "And then saying sorry for earlier. I just…know how much Peyton wanted this painting."

"Lucas, I only…"

"And then it's saying goodbye." He finished, forcing her a half-smile. "I don't think I'll be back here."

He didn't wait for a response, didn't turn back as he left, didn't take much notice of any details. He didn't see her head dip, didn't see her left hand without it's wedding and engagement rings rub her arm softly, didn't see her lips tremble 'goodbye Lucas.'

He had to make things work with Peyton.

-

_She was stunning. Brunette hair cascading across creamy skin, hazel eyes beaming from the glossy page. 'A model' didn't come close to describing her beauty, only perfection could do that._

_She told him her name, asked him his and said that picking her magazine cover out from the rest showed that he had great taste. He argued that it was only because of the basketball she was holding across her chest. _

_She rolled her eyes, telling him 'whatever.' Guys were easy to read._

"Lucas I've got a meeting with some art company who want to discus my paintings!" Peyton laughed, hugging him. He could've imagined how he would have felt in that moment: proud, excited for her, happy. Yet he felt none of those things. Instead, failure as a good boyfriend took over.

"Isn't that great?" She beamed, still clutching the phone in one hand, hugging his chest with the other.

"Well done babe." He smiled, kissing her forehead. "You deserve it."

"He asked about the details for my next painting with Brooke, and said that if it turned out even half as good as sounded, I'd definitely be looking at a five-figure price tag! And they'd look at maybe even doing a third painting, providing Brooke agrees."

"That's great Peyton." Lucas said softly. "Really great."

She told him, laid in bed with nothing but starch cotton sheets to cover their bodies, that she had managed to get in touch with Brooke, and weather providing, they had scheduled the modelling and painting to take place within the next week.

"I invited her and her husband for dinner." Peyton said, an arm draped across Lucas' chest. "I thought I'd try cooking that risotto dish your Mom gave me the recipe for."

"You invited Brooke to dinner?" He asked, panic flashing through him. "Why?"

"Because I thought we could all get to know each other properly. I know her body but not her. Perhaps if we're going to be business partners, I should know more about her than her hip to waist ratio." She laughed. "Are you okay with that?"

"Uh…yeah." He lied. "Just…"

"Just what?"

"Just don't get too hopeful about this meeting with the art company. I'd hate to see you crushed if something didn't…"

"Do you not like my paintings Lucas?" Peyton cut in, sitting up a little.

"_I _love them. But if they don't, I wouldn't want you to take it to heart."

She relented, laying her head further into to the crook of his neck as he ran a tired hand through curly blonde hair.

"Do you like Brooke?" She murmured.

"Do I _like _her?"

"I know she can appear a little…silly sometimes. But she's a really lovely person once you spend enough time with her."

Lucas simply nodded, his lips dry and parted as he thought about the brunette in question, wondering whether she might be lying at home in bed, sheets covering her naked body too as she thought about anything just to pass the time.

"I'm sure she is."

* * *

Pretty please (with a cherry on top) review for me xxx 


	5. Secret Smile

**A/N- **It's been a little while since I updated this story, but I've been trying to find the right way in which to write this chapter, and I hope you'll all enjoy :)

**

* * *

**

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 5: Secret Smile

Her make up was done. It had taken probably way too long, and she was sure that it was only fear making that purple bruise on her wrist stand out from the usually pale skin.

Brooke Davis was no longer porcelain. She was fake and tanned and broken. Jeans covered her legs and a smart red shirt covered her body. Still hot outside, she wondered whether Lucas or Peyton might frown upon her choice of clothing. But then her left hand fingered her wrist and Brooke remembered. She was married and they had no reason to even pay attention to her, let alone try and decipher her outfit.

"Are you _trying_ to make us late?" Chase asked her, his face poking out from the doorway. And then she couldn't help but curve her lips as a smile crossed his face, his eyes travelling down to Brooke's shirt.

She'd fallen for his humour. They way he could make fun of her yet at the same time make her feel like the most loved woman in the world. It was his eyes she'd noticed first. Brown and shinning as he laughed at some joke make by mutual friends at one of her modelling auditions. Then his clothes: smart jacket and pants, with a pale blue shirt and tie. Brooke could never resist a man in a shirt.

"I'm sorry babe." He said softly, eyes staring at the wrist she was strategically placing bangles over.

"I know."

"I just…I know I shouldn't drink that much."

"It's okay." She whispered back, knowing that the blow he'd delt her earlier was anything but.

"I love you."

She could only nod as he reached her, taking her limp wrist in his hands as he let his lips brush butterfly kisses across where he guessed was the bruise by the heat emitted from her skin.

Chase just…got a little jealous some times.

-

"Well did you follow the recipe?" Lucas almost shouted, taking the oven glove from Peyton's outstretched hand as she huffed out anger.

"I'm not stupid Lucas, of course I followed the damn recipe."

"Then how come it looks like that?" He asked, staring down at the blackened mess that his wife was trying to call a risotto.

"I don't know!"

He prodded the contents of the dish with the serving spoon they'd intended to use for their dinner with Brooke and Chase. "Jesus Christ."

"What am I supposed to do now?" Peyton asked, sighing as Lucas tried to stifle a laugh. "I'm not even dressed yet and they're going to be here soon."

"Leave it to me."

"But you're not…"

"I'll get ready later." He replied. "Go take a shower and I'll have something sorted when you get back."

Peyton nodded, turning to leave the kitchen. It was only when she'd reached the door that she faced him again, tight smile to match the frown forming on her forehead.

"I love you, you know?"

Lucas looked up from the cook book he had busied himself flicking through. "I know."

None of those words were what she wanted to hear back.

-

"Wow, this looks amazing." Brooke smiled as she sat down, chair held out for her by Chase. "Peyton you must be such a great cook."

"Actually, it was all Luke." She replied. "I had an accident with the risotto I was making."

"Brookie's not much of a cook." Chase laughed, his behaviour instantly annoying Lucas. "She burned eggs the other day."

Lucas watched as Brooke used one smile for Peyton: a polite, non-teeth-showing business smile. The one she used for Chase was different: tongue behind her teeth, the corners of her eyes barely moving as her husband told them stories of Brooke's mishaps in the kitchen, or her klutziness. He hadn't yet figured out whether her smile for him was different still, or whether she refrained from anything else in his company.

"You're looking tanned." Peyton commented. "Have you been away?"

Brooke shrugged nonchalantly as she explained away her new skin tone. "My friend had just had a spray tan and she recommended the place. Thought I'd try it out."

"Does it wear off?"

"Um, yeah after a couple days. Why?"

"Because for the painting, I'd rather your skin be paler, like it was before."

"Have you got a problem with her skin?" Chase suddenly demanded. "It could be classed as racism you know? Telling someone you'd rather their skin be paler."

"Chase…" Brooke started, but was interrupted by Peyton.

"I don't have a problem, and how dare you suggest I'm racist! The whole point of the painting is that the title will be _'Nude, With Poppies' _meaning that Brooke is free from makeup and other cosmetics."

"_I _thought the point of the painting was to get guys to look at it and pay some ridiculous amount of money for something they could get in a magazine from a stand in the street."

Lucas could only watch silently, disgusted at the attitude of Brooke's husband, not only towards her and her work, but towards Peyton's work.

"I think we should go." Brooke whispered softly, her hazel eyes boring into the plate of food she had barely touched.

"We still need to discuss the times." Peyton protested.

"I'll call you tomorrow? Thanks for tonight, and the food was great Lucas." She told him, her eyes locking with eyes, as her lips curled involuntarily. And that's when he spotted it. A secret smile. _His _smile. Brooke Davis had a smile just for him, which showed pearly teeth and sculpted dimples, and was nothing short of perfect.

He didn't have time to notice Chase's strong hand shove Brooke sharply out of the doorway.

-

Lucas was jolted out of a peaceful dinner when Peyton grabbed his plate from under him, lips pursed, heels clacking dangerously loud on the floor of the kitchen.

"What's up?"

"You know what Luke? You might want to grow a pair of balls for the next time we have company."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm your _wife_. How could you let Chase speak to me like that? And what he was implying about Brooke, she must have been so humiliated! Or do you just not care?"

About Peyton? Of course he cared. She was his wife, and hearing another man speak to her in that way was appalling him. But he hadn't had time to respond before Chase had turned his attentions to Brooke.

"Of course I care Peyton!"

"Then why didn't you _say _anything?"

Why didn't he say anything? Because if he let himself get involved with Brooke's marriage he'd be in way too deep. He was almost sure that he'd passed the point of safe return with Brooke Davis the night he'd met her.

"Because it was between Brooke and Chase by that point, and I didn't want to get involved."

"You know, you've done your fair share of not getting involved lately." Peyton muttered, slamming the dishwasher shut hard enough to make the plates inside rattle.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Pay some damn attention to what's going on around you!"

She'd left the room before Lucas could ask what she wanted him to do, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know anyway. It took only minutes for his laptop to come out, his fingers expertly typing what he needed to release.

_He knew he wasn't supposed to do what she wanted. He shouldn't have been at the restaurant, but something about her made him go there, his limbs numb the whole time, lips trembling as she planted hers on his cheek, the faintest trace of perfume brushing onto his neck._

_He'd always thought that his marriage had meant everything to him. Perhaps, after spending the smallest amount of time with Lucie Beaumont , excitement had meant more. _

_-_

"You love me, right?" Chase asked softly, lips pecking at Brooke's tanned skin, her shoulders bare, shirt and jeans folded on the chair beside her bed.

"Yes." She replied, eyes closed, hands clenched as she let him finger the bruise left between her shoulder blades.

"Say it."

"What?"

"Say you love me."

"Chase…"

"Tell me you love me." He whispered, lips parted against her neck.

She flicked the bedside lamp off with her left hand, drawing the covers up over her body. He couldn't see the tears then, as her lips stumbled the three words she least wanted to use.

"I love you."

* * *

Please review, much love xxx 


	6. Grey Skies

**A/N- **Hi guys! I know it's been ages since I updated but I've just started uni and there's so much stuff to do! They trick you during the first two weeks into thinking that all there is to do is sex and drinking but the amount of work after that is rediculous! Never mind though, here I am with an update! Please review at the end guys xxx

**

* * *

**

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 6: Grey Skies

_She posed this way and that, flicking glossy hair over her shoulders as her eyes sparkled for the camera lens, and the photographer just nodded for more. Calling out positions, Lucie followed his instructions, letting elegant fingers trail down her exposed stomach…_

"Hey Lucas." Peyton walked in as he snapped the laptop shut, forcing a smile and resting an elbow over the top of his work. "What was that?"

"What?"

"I just saw you shut that laptop quicker than a light go on!" She half-laughed, her blue eyes widened at him.

"Oh, it was just something for my book. I don't want anyone to read it until it's finished."

His wife nodded, curly blonde hair brushing against her neck. "Well I just wanted to tell you that I'm going to meet Brooke. Start the painting."

"Okay great." Lucas narrowed his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." He replied quickly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just that when I mention Brooke, you seem to not like her. I know her and Chase aren't the kind of people we usually have dinner with, it's just that this could be the start of my career Luke, my name might be recognised."

"I know." He nodded, summoning everything inside of him not to argue back that none of her reasons for him not wanting to talk about Brooke were correct. "And you're a great artist Peyton. You don't need a specific painting to tell everyone that."

_He had to tear himself away, had to think about his wife then, because none of this was fair on her. He just…couldn't help it. Lucie, to him, was seduction and power and beauty. She was elegance and riches and white in a sea of grey. In that moment, as he watched her perfectly fake smile fall, her eyes untouched with happiness, with comfort, Lucie was everything._

-

"What happened to your wrist?" Peyton asked, her eyes examining the purple bruise on Brooke's wrist as the brunette continued to remove her clothes without hesitation, fingers slipping the buttons of her shirt from their holes, jeans released to leave starch white cotton and soft skin.

"Oh, I fell the other day. " Brooke replied nonchalantly. "I was trying to reach something from the cupboard and then I lost my balance. My wrist hit the counter top hard." She forced an -I'm-such-a-klutz giggle, and waved away her injury.

It was a nicely elaborate story to cover something as simple as a burn from Chase's hands grabbing her so tight.

"You'll be able to just paint it like you will the other wrist won't you?"

"Yeah." Peyton shrugged, hoping that her subject was telling the truth. Otherwise something well-hidden could be exposed.

"We'll show this at the same gallery as the lilies." Peyton told Brooke, carefully mixing the perfect creamy colour for her skin tone. "Try and generate the same audience."

Brooke didn't reply as she laid there, left leg curled up to her chest, her arm with the bruised wrist hanging limp across her leg, her face only half visible, hundreds of poppies brushing against her as Peyton's brush moved slowly over the canvas, leaving breathtaking strokes of a brilliant artist.

-

"Let me see it!" Brooke giggled, her child-like nature showing through as Peyton stole a suspicious glance at her bruised wrist while shaking her head.

"No. It's not quite done yet. Besides, you can see it at the gallery just like you did with the other one."

"You're not fair." The brunette pouted, folding her arms across her chest in a defiant manner, much to Peyton's amusement. "I get naked and you won't even let me see what I look like."

Peyton laughed a little, shrugging her shoulders. "Get a mirror."

She'd forgotten what it was like to just hang out with girls. Since getting married, her husband and her career had been the main focus of Brooke's life, friendship had faltered and the only new people she'd really met were girls on modelling jobs. She missed it. _Laughing_. _Really laughing._

They turned to leave, each in their different directions, each to their respective home lives.

"Hey Brooke." Peyton called back to the girl in the pink shirt, raven hair striking against her pale skin. "Just be careful." Her eyes travelled to the purple bruise, and without anything more, they both knew what she meant.

Brooke simply nodded, a small smile, a worried smile twitching across her lips as she turned back around, walking until the field of poppies became only a blur in the corner of her eyes, and she focused solely on the grey skies ahead.

-

He'd dreamed of her. Every night for the past week, she'd been there, once with lilies, once as Lucie Beaumont, the character whose life behind closed doors he had to imagine, once as someone broken, someone who needed rescuing, who needed _him _and only him for her to be okay again.

She wore blue and green and red. She wore black with silver, and bronze with brown. She wore knee boots and ridiculously high stilettos and bare feet. Her hair was curled and soft and shiny, her toes painted in pearl and glitter, nails long for Lucie, short and bitten for the girl who hid everything, for the girl who needed _him._

Lucas couldn't see her. That was too dangerous because now she haunted him in his sleep, in his bed, the same bed he shared with Peyton. He was guilty of infatuation, of imaginative infidelity. He hoped she didn't feel the same. This needed ending before it became anything more.

_He was too late. He was already too involved, too deep into falling in love with a woman he hardly knew for things to be turned around. _

-

She was in every paper. Photographed as the wife of the new air to the shipping fortune his father had amassed. The articles reported that Chase's father had died from a heart attack, his business left to Chase, his house and vacation homes to his third wife, and his cars to various other individuals.

Perhaps this was the beginning of her fame now. Chase was a tabloid veteran, weekly gossip surrounding his good looks and rumours of affairs, with Brooke simply staying on the sidelines. Perhaps now she would be recognised, if only as the wife of a grieving son.

Or perhaps she'd finally gain recognition for her work: her modelling shoots, her appearance as the subject of Peyton's painting, her disguised appearance as Lucie Beaumont in Lucas' under-developed book. But then, she can't gain anything from that, because it's _his _little secret.

"I'm sorry to hear about Chase's father." Peyton tells Brooke over the phone. "I was just calling to let you know that the opening night for the new painting is in four days. I'd love for you to come."

"She okay?" Lucas asked as Peyton ended the call, taking a seat opposite her husband at the kitchen table, newspapers covering the surface. Peyton had hoped for one of them to mention her latest painting. None had.

"She says so."

"What do you mean?" Lucas asked, trying to disguise his increasing interest over anything surrounding Brooke Davis.

Peyton shrugged. "Sometimes I get the feeling that she's trying to hide something."

"She's in the public eye now." Lucas replied simply. "Everyone has something to hide."

_He can't get her to tell him. She's mysterious, proud, perhaps even a little scared. She tells him nothing about her, and yet he needs to learn everything. So he'll guess, for now. He'll guess that she sleeps on her side, one hand resting underneath her pillow, the other against her chest as it moves slowly up and down to reveal comfortable breathing. He'll guess that she drinks hot chocolate, taking the tiniest of sips while it's still hot, to avoid burning her tongue. And he'll guess that she has something she's desperate for people not to find out, so she stays reserved, quiet, her personality masked by someone else's until she's sure nobody's watching._

_And for as long as he has to guess these things, he knows that it's nothing but grey skies ahead. _

_

* * *

_

Please review guys xxx


	7. Naked Truth

**A/N- **Muchos Gracias for your reviews last chapter guys, and for those of you who want an update for 'These Arms' I'm on it right now :) Although I may have to put both this story and that one on hold while I write this year's Chrsitmas Fic lol. I'm such a sucker for the holidays. Hope you enjoy :) xxx

**

* * *

**

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 7: Naked Truth

"Peyton I'm not sure whether I can make it tonight." Lucas said, eyes focused on the floor. He was beginning to think that if he was going to spend this much time staring at a particular carpet, he might have to change it to a colour he actually liked. Navy blue in a bedroom was not his idea of calm.

"What do you mean you're not sure?" Peyton demanded, fixing the back of her earing into place. "Either you can come, or you can't."

"I have to work late tonight."

"Doing what?"

"There's this article…"

"There's always an article." She snapped. "And you've known about this showing for weeks! This is _my _career Lucas!"

"Exactly." He replied as calmly as possible as he tried to think of as many reasons as he could not to go. None of them was that he didn't want to.

"It's _your _career. You don't need me there, you did these paintings on your own. It's _your _night."

She turned her face quickly as Lucas tried to plant a soft kiss against her neck, making sure that he caught her hair instead.

"Please Peyton." He asked quietly, letting his hands fall down to his wife's hips, covered with delicate red material. He'd always imagined Brooke would look great in red. _But he wasn't supposed to think about Brooke like that. _

"Please what?"

"Don't be like this."

"I'm not being like anything." She replied quickly, removing herself from her seated position on the edge of their bed.

"So you'll forgive me for not being there tonight?"

Peyton simply shrugged, the left side of her mouth curving into something of a sad smile. "Whatever."

-

He was trying to become something of a respectable public figure, Brooke had concluded. Her husband: a man of ridiculous wealth, dark good-looks and nearing top celebrity status, had begun to banish his hard-partying ways, instead, choosing to throw himself into work: donating large amounts of money to various charity events. They'd go here and there, with Brooke wearing Armani and Prada and Chanel. Chase's cufflinks were always diamond or platinum, sometimes custom-made by Swarovski.

As the press shouted their names, standing in front of red carpets and opulent town halls, they'd hold hands, her wrists always covered by the most beautiful jewellery, and he'd whisper that he loved her, always after he'd pressed a fist too hard into her back. She'd blink back tears and force a smile all the way through every one of those nights she was in physical pain. There were beginning to be less and less nights that she wasn't.

Chase drank. When he drank, he got angry.

The bruise on her wrist at the timer of Peyton's painting had healed about a week ago, leaving an aching pain whenever Brooke attempted to lift anything too heavy, but conveniently invisible to the public eye.

Chase had promised that he was sorry, and that it would never happen again. He'd just lost control for a moment, and he would never intentionally do anything to hurt the woman he loved. It was more than just a shame that she couldn't believe him, but wanted to anyway.

So it had been silent tears, washed away in the warmth of the marble-tiled shower when the imprint of his fist had been left in Brooke's upper back, creating reds and purples and yellows against otherwise creamy-white. That bruise was covered tonight though, with a wrap, fur-trimmed and chocolate brown to match the cream silk of her dress.

"You look beautiful." Chase told her, fixing the clasp of her necklace at the back of her neck. "You always look beautiful."

That necklace, (pearl on platinum for the record) was his sorry, and even though he hadn't said so, Brooke knew. And as she watched herself in the mirror as she let him kiss her, the disgust at just how weak she was crept across her skin. And she had to shut her eyes against that just to stop herself from throwing up.

_Lucas wouldn't hit her._

But Lucas was married to Peyton, and she was married to Chase. They'd promised to love each other until death parted them. She wasn't supposed to be wishing that it was Lucas kissing her neck, letting his hands glide towards the zipper of her dress, whispering that she looked beautiful. So she did only what she could, and let her hand slip into Chase's as she picked up her purse to leave.

-

_He'd decided that he had to cut all ties with her to get his marriage (and his life) back on track. So going to the benefit that night was his good-bye and his commitment to his wife in one go._

_It just wasn't supposed to turn out the way it did._

"It's amazing isn't it?" Someone asked Brooke as she stared at the portrait of herself, namely, the purple strokes on the canvas. Peyton had painted in the bruise. "The way she captures real life like that. You know, how it's not all perfect."

The brunette didn't dare turn around. She didn't want to have to face the people who would recognise her, thinking that she was weak. This whole nude thing had gone too far.

"Thank you for such a great picture." Peyton smiled behind Brooke as Chase was busy talking to a few high society women who had recognised him from the press. Brooke was glad of his distraction.

"Peyton I…"

"I did the right thing right? Painting your bruise in. I just thought it made for a better picture. I mean, it's the naked truth right?" She laughed a little, not quite realising how true her own joke was. "Sometimes I just wish my ass of a husband was here to see my work."

"I just…I'm not sure that Chase will understand."

Peyton frowned, staring up at the picture. "But you said that you fell when you were reaching up to the cupboard."

"I did…"She faltered slightly, trying to remember exactly just what she had told Peyton.

"Brooke are you sure…"

"Chase hates that I'm so clumsy." She cut in quickly, forcing a laugh. "I just wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea and associate it with him."

"Associate what with who?" Chase asked, slipping has arms around Brooke's waist from behind as he viewed the painting from over her shoulder.

"Brooke's bruise." Peyton replied quickly.

"The one I got when I fell and hit my wrist on the counter." Brooke looked back at him, willing him to stay calm, at least until they got home.

"She's so clumsy." Chase waved it away, chuckling a little, as Peyton smiled, reassured. Brooke managed an innocent shrug of her shoulders until she felt Chase's grip tighten around her, a lump forming in her throat.

-

Lucas quickly realised upon entering the building that he wasn't wearing appropriate clothes for tonight's showing. He had on smart pants and a shirt, but unfortunately no tie or jacket, and he silently told Peyton that he was sorry for the negative attention he might bring to himself.

But he wasn't here to view a painting. His presence was to say goodbye to Brooke, because he knew it was the only way he could ever get her out of his head, and if it saved his surely failing marriage, then Lucas would do what he could. Peyton didn't deserve a cheating husband.

He'd made it almost to the entrance of Peyton's showcase room, before he heard stifled sobs coming from what appeared to be a storage closet. Knocking lightly, he asked whether everything was okay.

"I'm fine." came the reply, but instantly he knew she wasn't. And he knew that voice.

Trying the door handle, he found that it was locked. "Brooke it's Lucas."

_Things might have been easier if she hadn't unlocked the door._

"I'm fine." She told his as he shut the door quickly behind him, as if trying to convince him of something he didn't believe. It wasn't working.

"Brooke you're not fine."

"I'm just tired." She sighed, wiping away the traces of black mascara smudges from under her eyes. "I just…get emotional when I'm tired." She tried to laugh, waving it away.

Lucas smiled slightly, taking a seat on a bench beside Brooke as he surveyed their space.

"Some storage room." He chuckled slightly. "It's bigger than my living room."

She smiled slightly as he put an arm around her, rubbing her shoulders over the wrap that was covering them. "I'd offer you my jacket but I just realised that I don't have one."

Lucas was grateful for her laugh, even if it was mixed with tears and it gave him the feeling that everything wasn't as she was telling him. It still showed him those dimples. And even if he was to forget about her, emotionally, he was almost sure that he'd remember her dimples.

"Maybe you should get back." He told her softly. "People might wonder what's happened."

Brooke nodded, and as she stood up, shuddered at the pain Lucas' hand resting on the bruise on her back gave her.

"What's…"

"It was nothing." She interrupted, reaching for the door handle. Lucas reached her wrap first, pulling it away from her body.

"Brooke…" He gasped, his blue eyes staring at the mark across her skin. "Was it him? Did he do this to you?"

"Give me my wrap back Lucas, I just need to go." Brooke stammered, her eyes clouding with tears again as Lucas refused.

"You can't go back to him Brooke. Come home with me, there's a spare bedroom and…"

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't? Chase hit you Brooke!"

"He won't do it again, he promised."

Lucas took hold of her hands, ignoring for once everything he was feeling towards her as placed the wrap delicately over her shoulders. "We all make promises we don't keep."

-

"Have you seen Brooke?" Chase asked Peyton, interrupting a conversation she was having with a potential buyer. "I need to leave, something's come up."

"Um, I think she went to the bathroom."

"Can you go get her?" It came out more of an order than a question, but Peyton excused herself from her conversation, telling Chase she's try and find her.

"She's not there." She told him bluntly on her return.

"Great." He replied sarcastically. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

"You go." Peyton offered. "I'll tell Brooke when I see her that you'll meet her at home?"

It took Chase a few moments to consider, and he nodded as Peyton turned her attention back to her earlier conversation.

"Tell her it's important." He demanded, before flashing a quick smile as he left.

-

"Is it there for you?" Brooke asked Lucas softly as he showed her all of Peyton's paintings around their home.

"What?"

"That feeling when we're together."

He'd gotten caught up in her for too long, and now her hazel eyes were boring through his own blue ones as he entwined his hand with hers.

"Like that?" He asked, smiling a little as Brooke's eyes continued to search his, before closing, his lips landing on hers delicately, perfectly as he brushed back her hair with his other hand, her wrap falling to the floor.

Every painting was now just a blur as Lucas let his hands glide across Brooke's back, avoiding the bruise that he'd discovered earlier, single items of clothing leaving an expensive trail to his bedroom as he kissed his way across every mark on her skin, every sore point, everywhere she'd felt pain.

And now, all Brooke could feel across her skin was warmth, pleasure, security as the man she knew she loved traced the ink of a tattoo just below her hip, his breath hot against her, her eyes glazed as she let her hands rest at the back of his neck.

And then it was just silent tears and the naked truth as she realised how happy Lucas could make her. Leaving butterfly kisses from her forehead to her stomach told her that he knew, and that smile he gave her, right before he showed her, as their eyes locked would stay in Brooke's memory forever.

* * *


	8. Smiles Fade

**A/N- **Yay! This story is officially back! I have a 3000 words assignment to do for Thursday and I haven't even started yet, so ntaurally I took the time to finish this chapter instead of doing work haha. I really hope you enjoy, and don't forget to review :)

**

* * *

**

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 8: Smiles Fade

"We shouldn't have done that." Lucas murmured softly against Brooke's skin. She was warm and flushed in his marital bed, the same bed that he shared with Peyton, her hair messy and knotted a little around the top, but to him, she looked perfect.

"I know."

"We're married. To different people."

"I know."

"But I wouldn't change what we just did." He told her, his lips resting against the purple bruise on her back. The sheets were crumpled, creased against the soft duvet, brushing delicately across their skin as two pairs of legs rested, entangled at the foot of the bed. "But maybe…"

"We should head back?" Brooke finished for him. "Chase might be looking for me."

"And Peyton for me."

"But…"

"I don't want you to leave. _I _don't want to leave."

"Me neither." She shook her head sadly, craning her neck to look at him one last time, his hand placed over hers, resting against the toned skin of her stomach.

"I don't want you to go back to him. He might…"

"He won't." Brooke cut in quickly, not daring to let Lucas finish his sentence. She knew the truth just as well as he did, but having him say hit just seemed to make everything worse.

"How do you know?" Lucas asked, sitting up to look at the girl next to him. The bruises across her skin were still evident, and Lucas couldn't bare the thought of more appearing.

"He promised."

"We all make promises we can't keep."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Brooke questioned, a little anger appearing in her voice. It wasn't that she didn't understand what Lucas meant, but having him judge her for being with a man…like Chase was more than she could deal with.

"It means that you should stay here, there's a guest room and…"

"Yeah, because that would work just fine." Brooke rolled her eyes. "You know what Lucas, I'm going to just leave now…"

"Why are you kidding yourself Brooke?" Lucas almost shouted, voice raised as she left the bed, sheet wrapped around her tiny body. "You and Chase won't work. You can't love him." She looked so small and vulnerable until she turned around, eyes blazing until she narrowed them, something that looked well-rehearsed and sarcastic.

"Maybe we're both kidding ourselves." She shrugged. "_We_ aren't going to work."

She shut the door behind her, the water of the shower splashing against the cold tiles, and Lucas found himself pressed up against there, calling her name through the door.

"You were right earlier." She called. "We shouldn't have done this."

"But Brooke…" He'd opened the door now, because that barrier in between them wasn't right for a serious conversation. "I think I might…I…think…I love you."

"You don't love me." She snorts, her hair soaked against her skin. Lucas was almost sure that if they weren't having some sort of argument right now, he'd jump straight in there and have her up against that tiled wall.

"Brooke…"

"No." She demanded. "No you can't love me."

"But I do."

"Stop saying it!" She screamed. "Stop it Lucas, it's wrong, this is all wrong."

She didn't even finish washing the rest of her body before she opened the shower door, quickly covering herself with a towel from the rail. She wasn't sure when it was that she'd begun feeling self-conscious towards Lucas, but she couldn't bare him to look at her naked.

_Perhaps it was when she nearly told him that she loved him back._

-

_His intentions weren't to get her commit to anything, he just wanted her safe. He wanted her with him. But marriages were getting in the way, vows had gotten in the way and now he'd have to try anything and everything to build Lucie's strength up enough for her to leave him._

"Oh." Peyton said quietly, faltering as she entered her kitchen to find her husband sat in front of his computer, snapping it shut quickly.

"Look Peyt, I'm sorry about tonight." He offered. "But this article really needed finishing. How did the showcase go?"

"So you do actually care?" She replied sarcastically.

"Come on Peyton I'm trying here."

"You're trying _what_?"

"To apologize and you're throwing it back in my face!"

"I just…I feel like everything between us is disappearing, like you loved me more before, and now I'm just some second class person to your work."

"Don't be silly." He says softly, planting a kiss on her lips. "I love you Peyton Sawyer, just as much as I did when we got married, just as much as I ever will."

Lucas wasn't sure why the words left his mouth. He should have told her then, it was his chance, his timing. But suddenly his wife seemed to need him, and he couldn't help but comfort that.

"I think we should go on vacation." She suggests. "Somewhere far enough away to forget about work and everyone around us."

He nodded in agreement, but he wasn't convinced that anywhere could be far enough away to forget about Brooke.

"Lucas?"

"Um yeah that sounds…good." He nodded, a weary hand passing over his eyes.

"You're tired."

"And you still haven't told me how things went tonight."

"Things were kinda…" She trailed off, deciding not to bore Lucas with her suspicions about Chase. Other people's problems could wait, at least for the night she figured, and Lucas didn't seem to like talking about Brooke at the best of times.

"Kinda?"

"Kinda good." She decided with a smile and a confirming nod. "And you know what else would be kinda good?"

Lucas shook his head, and Peyton smiled wider, biting her lower lip suggestively.

"Me and you in that oversized shower of ours. I don't know, I'm feeling kind of…dirty."

_Coming from his wife, those words sounded out of place, forced, untrue. If they'd have come from her, from Lucie, then he's sure he'd be feeling differently right now. Her voice was always raspy, sexy, rough against his ear. She breathed sex into everything, and now he's almost sure that comparing it only makes it worse._

"Dirty." Lucas mumbled, realising that he had to play along. But the words didn't come, instead, only his hands reaching out to hers would suffice, his body detached from his mind as Peyton kissed him, her lips and breath never a match for Brooke's.

-

It had been days before she dared answer Lucas' call, and the day she did, Brooke instantly wished that she'd pressed 'end call' just like she always had before. Everything she did now, everywhere she went reminded her of him, and every love song she heard was enough to make her turn off the radio in an instant.

Lucas Scott, _married man Lucas Scott _had told her he loved her, and that call she'd answered only confirmed what she didn't want to know.

"Please Brooke, just hear me out." He gabbled desperately, breathless as she held her cell phone to her ear on her way to another modelling audition. "I want to be with you."

"Lucas you hardly know me." Brooke replied quickly.

"But I want to. Brooke, I want to get to know you, I want us to be…"

"We're not going to _be _anything." She confirmed. "Peyton loves you and Chase loves me."

"He doesn't love you Brooke! He hit you, and in my book, that's not love."

"And what is? A one night stand with a woman who should've known better?"

"Don't make that night out to be like that." Lucas said bitterly. "It was more than just a one night stand and you know it. You were happy Brooke. For those few hours you were happy, you were smiling and…"

She cut in quickly, not letting him finish but with her voice devoid of all emotion before she hung up. "Smiles fade."

_It was Lucie that had started it all, with her flirting and her free coffee. His wife had pushed them together, with her dinners and her meetings, and him? Well what was he supposed to do? He was powerless before Lucie Beaumont and now that she'd turned her feelings off, he'd made a secret pact with himself to turn them back on again._

_

* * *

_

Please review guys xxx


	9. Dangerous Obsession

**A/N-** I have to thank Kaya for the inspiration she gave me to finish this chapter, and if you're reading this, I'll be pming you very soon! So if I've planned this properly, there should only be three or four chapters lefts, and I plan on finishing off 'City of Angels' because two chapters was a minimal amount to give up on.

If any of you out there are into Gossip Girl, you should check out my new oneshots cos (along with Brooke and Lucas of course!) Chuck/Blair is my favourite pairing of all time.

Hope you enjoy this guys, and please review at the end :)

**

* * *

**

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 9: Dangerous Obsession

"Brooke it's Lucas." He stammered over the phone. Her answer phone had become the thing he'd heard most of lately, and her cheery tone was beginning to grate on him. He wished he couldn't see through the pretence. "I'm just calling to let you know that uh…look I'm going away for a couple weeks with Peyton. Just…I just thought I'd let you know."

When he hung up, he felt stupid for calling. But he couldn't take the words back, and he wasn't sure he wanted to anyway. Maybe it was naïve thinking that Brooke might drive to the airport in a desperate need to confess her love to him, maybe it was childish and stupid to think that things could be like a scene from one of those rom-com movies Peyton hated so much.

But Lucas had hope. _Always_ had hope when it came to Brooke.

Peyton entered the room, sunglasses on top of her head, flip flops clacking against her feet, and Lucas suddenly wondered what he was doing. He had no explanation as to why he couldn't just leave her, couldn't just ask for a divorce, so he forced a smile, silently cursing himself for becoming just like Brooke in his ways.

Her pretence had taught him everything.

-

She played the message over and over until she knew exactly how many seconds pause there were between each phrase. She wasn't even sure why he called, but she was even less sure about why she'd played that message so many times.

And then she wondered whether it would be totally stupid to give up this life, to throw everything to the wind and tell Lucas how she felt. But Brooke remembered that her life isn't the movies, and the movies are only fantasies anyway.

Lucas was an infatuation. Her marriage is reality.

So before she could talk herself out of it, before she grabs the car keys so that she can drive to the airport, she pressed _erase_ and shut her eyes. Maybe she'd be able to fall to sleep and forget about him for at least an hour or two.

She trailed her fingers over the bruises on her shoulders, laying down on the bed and her body shook. She wasn't sure if it was from pain, or from sickness, or even from disgust at herself that she could do this to Peyton, to Chase, to herself.

But being with Lucas made her happy, and she hadn't remembered the last time she'd felt like that.

-

"Phones off." Peyton said simply, adding a smile as she the concierge placed their cases on the floor of their hotel room.

"What?"

"We should turn our phones off." She said. "This vacation is supposed to be about me and you, and we don't ant distractions from work."

Lucas frowned at her, but agreed, reluctantly pressing the red button. It would kill him not knowing whether Brooke had tried to call, even though he knew the reality was that she'd probably deleted his number.

He shouldn't have told her what he did the other week, but it had been the truth and as soon as he'd realised it, Lucas couldn't help himself. He loved Brooke Davis, he was _in love _with Brooke Davis.

It just hurt that he couldn't feel for Peyton even half of what he felt for Brooke.

"It hasn't been just us in as long as I can remember." Peyton sighed as the concierge shut the door behind him, leaving the two of them to stare out at the ocean.

"What do you mean?"

"Well there's always work, or some party or launch we have to go to. We never just talk anymore."

Lucas wasn't sure what to say. They didn't talk anymore because he was having an affair with a woman that had practically launched Peyton's career as an artist, and he's found that the things they used to have in common weren't a priority any more.

"Is there something you want to talk about in particular?" Lucas asked, still a little confused.

Peyton shook her head, somewhat sadly. "See this is what I mean. We never used to need a reason to talk. We used to talk about anything."

Now he knew what she meant. Back when they first got together they'd just lie on her bed talking about music and their families. They'd discuss the literature that he loved, and the song lyrics that she loved, and not once had they gotten bored.

Such talk went out of the window long ago, and know Lucas wasn't sure what to do to get that back, or even if there _was_ anything he could do.

"The longest conversation we've had lately was when we were with Brooke and Chase."

He wished she hadn't brought that up. Now it was even harder to forget about the brunette that was stealing all thoughts and feelings.

-

_It's like he's forgotten how to talk. Like the only thing he'd ever be able to talk about is Lucie. She's stolen his mind and his body and his spirit, because he can only ever feel alive when he's around her now. _

_Even when they argue, when she tells him that she can't be hear him anymore, when she says that she doesn't love him, and that she can't ever love him, he feels alive. More alive than he's probably ever felt, and that's slowly killing him. Because if he can't have Lucie, he's sure that he can't get that feeling back. _

Lucas scribbled the words onto the paper as though his life depended on it, quickly folding them back into his pocket when he'd finished the last sentence. Peyton had popped down to the main desk in the hotel lobby to ask about some excursion she'd read about in the flight magazine, and Lucas had had to sit on his fingers to prevent himself from turning on his cell.

His desperation for Brooke had become a dangerous obsession and he needed to start fighting it.

-

It had been five days since her hospitalisation. Five days and the nurses still hadn't let her look in a mirror, still hadn't removed the bandages from her arms and from her stomach, and Brooke was now sure that things must be bad.

She'd run her tongue over her lip yesterday, the stinging pain making her eyes water, and she'd figured that it was split.

Chase hadn't visited. He'd sent flowers with a card on that read _'You mean too much to me' _which she'd guessed acted as a warning.

Six days ago, he'd asked her about the night of Peyton's picture launch. She'd not answered where she was confidently enough, and when Chase had accused her of having an affair, Brooke had stuttered that of course she hadn't, because she loved him, not anyone else.

"Liar." He'd spat, knocking her frail body against the wall with a single punch. Her lip had bled then, and her cheek, her nose numb, probably broken. "Was he good? Better than me? Fucking _bigger _than me?"

He hadn't waited for the answer, just set his fist into her stomach, grabbing her hair as she bent over.

"You're not going to make a fool out of me Brooke." He'd said coldly. "You models, you're all the same. I'd never cheat on you, you know that? _Never_."

And as much as she hated herself for it, she felt guilty, because Chase was right, he never _would _cheat on her. He hadn't asked who or why or when, but his imprints were enough so that she'd never have to answer, and she guessed they wouldn't mention it again.

But when she'd continued to cough blood, Chase had sent her to the hospital to get checked out. He'd never apologised, never visited.

And Brooke knew he wouldn't.

And now the nurses haven't let her go. She's kind of glad really, because she can't think of anything worse than going home.

She'd called Lucas. She'd called and called, crying, left messages to say that she was sorry, but that she really needed him. But that was four days ago.

He still hadn't come.

-

It had been a week since Lucas and Peyton had arrived in the Bahamas. And it was a whole other week until they could go home. He's finished his book while Peyton was getting a treatment at the spa.

The ending hadn't been what he'd initially wanted, but it was realistic. He'd wanted Lucie to get married to the main character, which he'd failed to name. Naming him would detach him from readers, and perhaps from Lucas himself. So he'd settled as referring to him as "he" and that was how Lucas wanted it. But he'd wanted Lucie to have children, to live in a pretty suburban house with a white picket fence like she deserved.

But in the end, he's settled on a bottle of pills and some vodka. It was the best ending and the worst ending at the same time, and he prayed every night that Brooke wouldn't turn into Lucie.

No doubt she'd haunt his dreams then too.

He'd cracked that day. Peyton had sauntered into the room wearing a white robe, face mask over her skin. She'd asked whether he'd mind her getting a pedicure after this, and whether he wanted to join her.

Lucas had replied that he didn't mind at all, but that he was going to walk along the beach because the humidity wasn't quite so high, and he quite fancied having the sea breeze in his face.

So for the millionth time during their vacation, they'd gone their separate ways, and Lucas had finally turned on his cell. And when he got that first message he wished more than anything that he hadn't.

_She was the dangerous obsession that he just couldn't quit, and it had landed her in the skies. She'd have deserved everything that he could have given her, but in the end, time had caught them out. Now, Heaven was hers to reign.

* * *

_


	10. Overdose's Victim

**A/N- **Thank you for all of your lovely reviews guys, they really mean a lot, and I'm so thankful you're still reading :) Not many chapters to go now :)

Please review at the end xxx

**

* * *

**

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 10: Overdose's Victim 

He'd packed everything in what he was sure to be record time. He hadn't missed a single item, not the toothbrushes, not Peyton's white slippers, not the folded pieces of paper containing the last few paragraphs of his book.

The room was stark now, void of life, of possessions apart from the cases by the door. And then Lucas sat down on the bed and stared, thought for a moment, realised that none of this makes sense. And then as quickly as he'd packed, he unpacked again, tried to remember the places of every item so that Peyton wouldn't suspect anything.

He didn't know why Brooke needed him. But all of this had gone too far, it had gone too far that first night of the painting exhibition. And though he wasn't in love with Peyton anymore, though she didn't excite him, fill him with lust, with passion, with desire, he loved her.

He'd loved her since they met, and Brooke couldn't change that. A phone call couldn't change that.

It just meant that while he loved his wife, he was in love with Brooke. Not complicated really. Just messed up.

-

She'd resigned herself to a life like this. Empty promises and broken vows continue to haunt her, along with Lucas' face, Lucas' touch, his words, and suddenly the pills in the cabinet in the bathroom at home had become more appealing.

She was sure there was a bottle of vodka in the drinks cabinet somewhere too.

Her face was messed up. What was once delicate white skin had been replaced by an array of purples and yellows, greens and pain. The nurses let her have a mirror yesterday. Held it out for her in front of her face, in case she broke it, she figured. Brooke felt like breaking a whole lot more.

They removed the bandages from her stomach too. All of those weeks spent at the gym seemed like a waste when her skin was inflamed and swollen. If she could see the lines of her abs, perhaps she'd be able to crack a small smile.

Perhaps if Lucas was here, she'd be able to crack a bigger one. Either that, or just crack and break.

She was done caring about Chase's feeling in all of this now. It's just Peyton she has to worry about.

A nurse had come to her not long ago, explained that the press had caught wind of her hospitalisation, and were concocting stories about pregnancy, about drugs overdoses, self harming. None of them were right, but it didn't seem to matter. Interest was increasing as far as E!, all identifying her as 'Chase Adam's wife.'

It hurt more than anything that she was someone else's possession rather than just Brooke Davis.

The nurse explained that the paparazzi has been warned to stay away from the entrance to the hospital, but that no formal statement had been issued to confirm whether or not she actually was being cared for. She advised Brooke that she might want to speak with her spokesperson, because none of this would subside until there was at least confirmation.

And then she must have read the look on her face, because she added "And perhaps you might want to call your lawyer? And maybe…the police."

"Why would I want to call the police?"

"They could…" The nurse began. "They should be able to use your injuries as evidence."

"I told you." She replied coldly. "I fell."

"No offence Ms Davis, but nobody sustains these kind of injuries from a fall. But it's not my place to say anything."

"You're right." She said, a little softer. "It's not your place to say anything."

She cried when the nurse left. Just laid there and cried until her throat was sore and her eyes were stiff. And she wished more than anything that Lucas was there to hold her.

-

The television was on when Lucas returned from the beach. Peyton was sat there on the bed, just staring, her blonde hair even lighter from the sun, her skin a little red from where she hadn't rubbed enough sunscreen.

She didn't say anything as he shut the door, and it took Lucas a few minutes to realise that none of their things were in sight. Aside from the suitcases by the door.

"Peyton what's going…"

And then he saw the television screen, and heared the reporter's voice.

"**Today it has been confirmed that Brooke Davis, the wife of shipping heir Chase Adams **_**has**_** been hospitalised. No further details have been realised from Ms Davis' spokesperson."**

He felt like he might throw up, like everything was in slow motion, and it would never return to normal.

"I've packed everything." Peyton said. "We can get a cab to the airport and book our flight from there."

"What?"

"Well it's easier than calling from here. We'll get the next flight back to Newark."

"Why? Brooke won't need us there. It'll be just something routine probably, like a scan." Lucas replied, trying to convince himself as much as he was Peyton. But from the call he'd received earlier, Lucas knew this was far from routine. And he got that sinking feeling yet again as he remembered the bruises across the brunette's skin the last time he saw her.

"Scans aren't routine Luke. And even if that's what it was, we should still go back. She could probably do with someone there for her."

"We're not exactly her friends Peyton. She'll have Chase and her family and…"

"I owe her a lot. She got my career going she…what if this was Chase?" She says panicky. "What if he…what if he hit her or something? There was that bruise on her wrist that time…"

"Peyton you're thinking about this too much." Lucas tried to reason, wishing that she hadn't said any of those things. Now he wanted to be by Brooke's bedside more than anything.

"No Lucas, I've got to go back. We've got to go back. What if it's cancer or something?"

"It won't be." Lucas waved her suggestion away. "You know models, they're always doing drugs and pills and stuff to get attention. It's probably something like that."

He hated himself for even saying it. But he knew that if they got to that hospital, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from trying to protect Brooke, from loving her, from kissing every inch of her skin in a promise that he'd be there, and that it would be okay.

And he loved Peyton, _she's _the one he was supposed to protect, supposed to make promises to, and everything concerning him and Brooke would destroy her. So when she scolded him for being an insensitive bastard, he hung his head in shame and whispered "I'm sorry" as she turned off the television and grabbed her bags.

He just prayed that she wasn't another overdose's victim.

* * *


	11. Unwanted Complications

**A/N- **Grrrr how annoying is it that certain punctuation marks don't work? Like the dividers between my scenes :( I hate putting these horrible big lines in, does anyone know of anything I can do to seperate my scenes?

On another note, when I started writing this chapter, I hadn't planned for it to turn out quite like it did, but the ending I'd initially decided on for this chapter wouldn't have given the story as much substance. So this story will be a couple chapters longer than I'd originally thought, so for everyone who's still reading/enjoying this story, that's good news right?

Hope you enjoy this chapter guys, and please don't forget to review at the end. It means a lot :)

xxx

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 11: Unwanted Complications

Brooke Davis remembered looking healthier back when she'd just suffered a bout of German measles than her current reflection in the mirror showed.

Her eyes were dull, a boring hazel, her hair limp and tired-looking, her skin the only thing colourful about her as she placed the last item of clothing into the leather bag Chase had brought for her the previous day.

It was the second time he'd visited and the second time she'd asked him (politely of course) to leave. He'd never apologised.

The nurse had informed her that though speculation was still rife, there were less paparazzi camping outside of the hospital grounds now, and that her spokesperson had done a great job.

Brooke had watched it all via the television set in her stark white room. She had begun to think of a career in acting, because Lord knows she was getting used to it.

Lucas still hadn't called, hadn't visited, hadn't sent a bunch of flowers, not that Brooke had expected him to. But she'd still hoped, and every day that there was still nothing was another day that she had to resign herself to the big house she shared with Chase.

She'd never signed a pre-nuptial agreement. Leaving him didn't seem worth it, not when she was still trying to make a name for herself in any sort of career, unable to afford the rent on even the poorest of apartments.

She'd just have to wait.

* * *

"So what are you going to do?" Lucas asked irritably. "Just barge into the hospital and demand to see Brooke?"

"Well I'm not going to _demand_ anything."

"She's a celebrity. They won't let us anywhere near her wing, let alone her room."

"Brooke's not a celebrity." Peyton half-laughed. "Her husband is. She's just a friend."

"She's not a friend Peyton, she's a business associate."

"What's your problem?" The blonde shouted, causing a number of heads to turn their way.

"I don't have a problem, I just don't see why we had to cut short our holiday for you to rush to the side of a woman we hardly know."

"I saw the bruises Lucas." She hissed. "That's all I need to know."

"It's Brooke's marriage, not yours. If there is anything going on between her and Chase, then it's between them."

He hated himself for it all. For every word. And he wasn't sure why he was taking this out on Peyton, but panic had set in, not just concerning Peyton discovering his affair, but because he didn't have a plan. Sometimes, he wished he hadn't even gone to that first art show. That way, none of this would be affecting him.

There was no way he could plan to keep Brooke safe from Chase without hurting Peyton.

Maybe now, he'd have to think of his marriage before he thought of himself and Brooke.

"When I married you, you weren't such a heartless bastard." Peyton spat.

"I'm not heartless Peyton!"

"Then what are you? A coward for not wanting to stand up to Chase?"

"I'm not a coward! We don't even know why Brooke is in the hospital in the first place! It could be anything."

"Then what if I'm right? What if it is something to do with Chase? What do we do then?"

"_We_ don't do anything. It's up to Brooke."

"I'll offer her our spare room."

"What? Peyton, no."

"Why not?"

"Doesn't she have family or other friends she could stay with? I mean, surely her parents wouldn't turn her away..."

"I'll offer her our spare room." Peyton said again. "If she doesn't want it, she doesn't want it."

It was silent between them after that. And Lucas began to wonder whether divorce would be such a bad thing.

* * *

"Ms Davis, I'm afraid there's been some complications." The nurse said with a somewhat sympathetic smile. "It looks like you might not be able to go home today."

Brooke wasn't sure whether the sick feeling in her stomach was from joy or worry.

"What kind of complications? It's not cancer is it? Because I saw this film once where…"

"It doesn't appear to be cancer." The nurse told her. "But the doctor noticed something which appeared under the scan of your ribs."

"What kind of something?"

"He's not quite sure. To be on the safe side, he requested we do another scan, one of your uterus."

"My what?"

"Your uterus, it's…"

"I heard you the first time." Brooke snapped a little. "Why would he want to do a scan on my uterus, I mean…"

"You said that there wasn't a chance you could be pregnant, but the doctor would like to do a scan anyway, just to make sure."

"No." Brooke shook her head. "No, no I can't be pregnant."

She hadn't had sex with Chase in what felt like months. And she'd had her period…or at least, something of a period a month or so ago. But then, they'd always been sporadic, that was just her body. It did what it pleased and Brooke wasn't going to question it.

"Ms Davis, the scan isn't compulsory, but it would be better for you to be checked out. And if you are pregnant…"

"And if I am pregnant _what_? You'll call social services?"

"We wouldn't do anything of the sort." The nurse shook her head. "But if you were pregnant, the doctor would be able to see how far along you are, check if the baby's healthy…"

"Please." She rolled her stinging eyes. "Even if I was pregnant, it wouldn't be a baby. It's just a _thing_."

"Like I said, the doctor just wants to make sure there aren't any complications. Someone will be by later to take you upstairs." The nurse added before leaving.

Brooke wasn't sure what was worse; cancer or an unplanned and _definitely _unwanted pregnancy. The whole situation was complicated enough, she didn't need anything else adding.

But as she looked up to see Peyton's face at the window of the door, Brooke knew that things were about to get even worse.

* * *

"It was him wasn't it?" She asked, softly at first. "It was Chase that did this, he put you here…"

"Peyton, you can't say things like that!" Lucas told her, many seconds behind his demanding wife. He hadn't been able to thank the receptionist for the information she'd given them before Peyton had taken a place in the elevator.

"No Lucas, she needs to tell us the truth! Was it him Brooke? Was it?"

"How did you even get in here?" The brunette demanded. "Nobody is supposed to be allowed in here, they aren't supposed to give my room number out."

"I told her we work together. She'd been to the first showcase, the lilies painting."

"I told them no visitors."

"You're avoiding my questions Brooke." Peyton began again. "This was Chase wasn't it? You can't go back to him, you have to…"

"Peyton that's enough!" Lucas interrupted.

If he hadn't caught Brooke's eye when he'd said it, maybe his voice wouldn't have cracked at the end.

"No Lucas it's not! She's got to see that this is going to happen again, that he'll…"

"I fell." Brooke spat.

"What? Into his fist?"

"I said, I fell!"

"Nobody looks like that from a fall Brooke, you can't fool me."

"I fell God damn it!" She shouted again, her fists balled up as tears threatened to slip down her face.

"Stop it now Peyton, you're upsetting her." Lucas stated, almost emotionless. He was almost sure he'd stopped feeling anything at all for his wife when he saw the colours on Brooke's face.

"Okay Ms Davis, your scan is all set for…" The nurse from earlier looked up for the first time since entering to see Lucas and Peyton stood at the edges of the bed. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you had visitors."

"It's alright." The brunette said in a sickly-sweet voice, fake smile plastered across her lips. "They were just leaving."

"We weren't leaving Brooke, we were…"

"Peyton." Lucas cut.

It only took the tiniest of smiles, the realist of tiny smiles from Brooke herself as he was ushering Peyton out of the door to make him want to turn around and scoop her up in his arms, plant kisses over every sore part of her body and promise that he wouldn't leave her again, not ever.

But then Peyton tugged on his hand and he was reminded that this was a mess he was partly responsible for. And no amount of kisses, no amount of promises that everything would be okay would make it better.

And there was his left hand, with his gold wedding ring, a plain, stark reminder of that fact that he was married to Peyton.

Brooke would spend another night alone in that hospital bed. He's just spend another night alone trying to gather his thoughts long enough to decide what to do about anything.

* * *

Please review guys :)


	12. Dirty Smiles

**A/N **Finally! My main computer broke while I was half-way through this chapter so I had to wait to get it fixed before I could continue :( But hey, this chapter's ready now and I'm hoping to have another up soon.

Hope you all enjoy :)

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 12: Dirty Smiles

He'd acted like he couldn't care less, like she meant nothing to him and never would. He'd treated her like he hardly knew her, like she wasn't broken and afraid, but merely someone he'd come into contact with through chance.

Lucas Scott hated himself for the way he was in love with Brooke Davis.

He'd spent the past few nights tossing and turning, knowing that Brooke would never agree to Peyton's offer of their spare room, meaning that she'd go back to that house she shared with Chase, prepared for another blow, another slap, another bruise across her delicate skin.

Her skin was what haunted him the most.

Perhaps, he'd thought, if Brooke _did_ choose to stay, if she _did_ pack her bags and swallow whatever pride, if any, that she had left, he'd get a decent night's sleep.

But knowing she'd be laying awake in that bed down the hall, would probably do more to keep him awake than a hundred cans of Red Bull ever would.

If she did stay, they would almost certainly get caught. Staying away would be too hard.

**X**

He cried when she left their bedroom, bag in tow. He cried like a small child, like it was his mother leaving, clawed at her ankles with their black hosiery as he promised never to do it again, never to even raise his voice.

But when she simply stepped over him, head held up high, he snapped, pulled himself up, face turning redder as he slammed her against the wall.

She still didn't look in his eyes.

"You'll regret this you know." He spat. "You'll have nothing, no career, no house, no car, no clothes. You won't get a modelling contract looking like a piece of crap!"

She wouldn't reply, _couldn't_ reply. Just held her breath until he realised his grip from her neck a little.

"You're nothing without me and without my money."

"I was everything before I met you, and now look at me!" She finally replied, voice taken over by some kind of involuntary reaction. "I can't even look at myself anymore! You did this to me!"

"You did it to yourself." Chase replied coldly. "Was he worth it?"

"Who?"

"Whoever you slept with, whoever you got your slutty little hands on."

"I told you, I didn't cheat on you!" Brooke lied.

"And I told you, that I didn't believe you. You're a liar Brooke. A dirty, cheap, personality-less little liar."

"Because of you!" She screamed as she freed herself from him, cheeks burning. "All of this is because of you!"

"Yeah, you're right." He followed. "All of this is because of me; this house, your clothes, your career, your car, the vacations. You'll come back when you realise that you can't ever live like this without me."

"You're kidding yourself."

"You need me Brooke admit it! You need me, and you need my money and my last name."

"I don't need anything from you anymore." She returned coldly as she left that house to a hundred flashes, to bright blue sky and cotton wool clouds.

Brooke Davis-Adams was Brooke Davis again.

**X**

"I just don't get it." Lucas frowned. "You and Brooke, you're not friends?"

"Not exactly."

"Then why would you invite her to stay?"

"Because she needs somewhere and we have a spare room."

"But loads of people have spare rooms. I don't invite people I hardly know to come and stay."

"That's because you don't 'hardly know' anybody that's been a victim of domestic abuse. She needs help Luke!"

"Exactly." He nodded. "But we can't give her that Peyton, she needs a doctor or a psychologist or..."

"She's not sick Lucas!"

"No, but aren't there people you're supposed to talk to? People that can help..."

"You're supposed to do what feels right for you." Peyton replied frostily.

"What about what's right for us? Having Brooke here will make things hard for us to do things just me and you."

"Wake up Luke." Peyton rolled her eyes. "We don't do anything just me and you anymore other than fight."

"That's not true, we do lots of things together like, we eat together, and sleep together, we've just been on vacation!"

"Yeah, and while you were walking the beach on your own, I was getting massages and pedicures _on my own_."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I don't know." She sighed. "Maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe this marriage isn't..." She stopped as the noise of the door buzzer overtook her voice, offering a small sad smile towards her husband. "That'll be Brooke."

"Wait!" Lucas cut in. "We haven't finished this conversation."

Peyton turned to look at him on her way out. "You and I both know how this conversation ends Luke."

**X**

The worst part of it all wasn't that he knew his marriage was over long before that earlier conversation. It wasn't that Peyton had turned her back to him yet again, her curly blonde hair resting on his half of the bed. It was that he could hear Brooke crying, failing as she tried to stifle her sobs against the emerald comforter, sniffing as she exhaled, only to reduce to tears again after a couple seconds.

Brooke Davis' cries were worse than Lucas could have imagined.

They got quieter as he made his way nearer, and Lucas began to wonder whether he was just imagining that things were worse than they were in reality. But when she wiped at her face furiously as he knocked lightly on her door, entering regardless of her answer, he knew she was trying to cover her tracks.

"You shouldn't be here Lucas."

"And neither should you but we're all doing things we're not supposed to be." He said somewhat sadly, very softly, and he was sure it made her lips creak into something of a tiny smile, a slightly dirty, naughty smile that he'd have pressed his own lips up against if they'd been anywhere other than in that room.

"Does Peyton know-"

"She's asleep." He cut in.

**X**

Brooke found the silences the unbearable. When she wasn't talking to him was when she'd do nothing but think about him. The more they talked, the less she thought. It was better that way, didn't hurt as much.

"Tell me things." She asked softly.

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me about work, your day, the weather, anything."

"But why do you-"

"Just talk to me Lucas." She whispered. "Please."

So he told her about the book, about how it had been approved by the publisher, and how it was due in stores in the next few weeks. He told her about the weather forecast, and how it had predicted rain, but he was hoping for sun.

"I like the rain." Brooke said gently. "Even though it messes up my hair sometimes, and it ruins my makeup. I love watching it against the window when I'm inside with a mug of hot chocolate."

"You don't seem like a hot chocolate kind of girl." Lucas replied with a small smile. "More like...caramel latte."

"Really?"

"Really. You look to me, like you'd drink lattes during the day and shots of espresso at night."

"Wrong." She shook her head, laughing a little until she remembered that it wasn't just the two of them, and that everything with Chase, had in fact, happened.

Lucas sighed and stopped leaning against the wall. "Do you want some?" He asked. "Hot chocolate I mean. It's raining."

She nodded yes, and wiped at her eyes one more time, making sure there were no remnants of mascara, no bags, no wrinkles.

"You still look beautiful." Lucas whispered softly as she looked up, thinking he'd disappeared towards the kitchen. "Even when you're crying, with those bruises." He closed his eyes for a second. "You still look beautiful."

He was almost out of the door before she called his name, holding the duvet close to her as she sat up properly, luxurious hair tumbling over her shoulders.

"What are we doing?" She asked. "I mean, I know what _I'm _doing but us together. What are _we _doing?"

"I don't know what you mean Brooke." Lucas replied defiantly.

"I'm here because you're supposed to finish saving me, because I love you and you told me that you loved me too, that you were _in love_ with me. Unless you've changed your mind?"

"Of course I haven't changed my mind!"

"Then what are we doing still sneaking around?

"I just...I need time to tell Peyton...I..."

"You must love her more than you tell me you do." She smiled, sadly shrugging. "You still haven't left her for me."

"Look, Brooke-"

"I think we should forget the hot chocolate, don't you?" She whispered, still with that horrible undimpled smile plastered across her pale lips. "Just go to bed."

**X**

"Brooke, I found something last night." Peyton said as she sat down beside the brunette, placing a mug of fresh coffee on the table for her. "I didn't want to say anything in front of Lucas because I mean...well it's your decision, what you do...who you tell."

"I'm not sure what you mean." Brooke said slowly, her heart panicking as it raised its beating speed.

"There was a test in the bathroom, in the trash."

"What..."

"I dropped the flannel from the sink into the trash can, and when I picked it out, I saw the packet."

"Did you look in it?" Brooke asked.

"No, I just, I covered it...why?"

Brooke just shook her head, blinking back more tears. "I couldn't."

"You couldn't what?"

"Look at it. I just...I don't want the answer."

"Brooke, you've got to look." Peyton said softly, placing her hand across Brooke's cold skin. "If you are, there might be...I don't know, legal things. The press are always outside here, if you start showing, if you are... then they'll know."

"I can't."

"Why not? If you are, I mean...it is Chase's baby...right?"

Brooke just dipped her head, silently staring into the black liquid in front of her.

"Oh...well...I mean, you need to find out if you are, you'd be able to figure out the father right?"

The brunette only shrugged. "I...Peyton this is all such a mess, I'm so sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry." The blonde soothed. "But you don't really need that test do you?" She asked. "You know the answer Brooke."

"I didn't want it to be definite." She mumbled. "That test, it'll be evidence, like the end of everything."

"It's a baby Brooke, not the end of the world." Peyton replied softly. "And it's your decision, nobody else's, not if people don't find out."

"But if I have this baby, and if Chase wants access, who knows what he's capable of? Or if it's not his, I'll get nothing."

"Nothing?"

"In the pre-nup. If I cheated, I'd get nothing, not the house, the cars, nothing."

"But you don't need those things Brooke, you can make your own money."

"How can a pregnant model ever make any money?" She cried. "I can't support a child, I've got nothing."

"But what about your savings?"

"It's a joint account."

"But Brooke you should be entitled to _something_."

"I just...please don't tell Lucas." She begged. "I don't want him to think of me as some sort of gold-digging slut, as a whore..."

"He wouldn't think that." Peyton replied, "But I won't tell him, I promise."

* * *

Please review guys xxx


	13. July's Rumours

**A/N- **Thanks to you lovely reviewers, without you, this story would be pointless :)

Hope you enjoy this chapter-nt many more to go now until the end :) xxx

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 13: July's Rumours

Lucas Scott's new book had been an even bigger success than the first one.

He'd been praised for the dark, romantic style in which it had been written, with his use of vivid description and flawless scene settings. He'd won over the critics with his portrayal of tragic beauty Lucie, and her lover who had been left heartbroken by the feelings he could never let anybody know about.

He'd been invited to premieres and ceremonies, been asked to bring his wife along, forced to smile and lie defiantly as the press questioned his own marriage, and whether the book had been based on true events.

It had helped sales, he figured, that the press had found out that Brooke Davis-Adams (he hated that surname) was living with him. The controversy surrounding the breakdown of her marriage, coinciding with her stint in hospital had produced mass media coverage, and now anything to do with Lucas often led to speculation about Brooke, and vice versa.

Demand was leading towards a sequel, though Lucas wasn't sure how it would be possible to continue a story without the one person that had made that story in the first place.

His work had made Peyton more famous now, the press acknowledging her not just as Lucas Scott's husband, but as her own person (not like the way they referred to Brooke). The phrase 'Chase Adams' wife' had grated on Lucas from day one, and now it only got worse.

Peyton now got invited to more art showcases. Within the space of a few months, they had gone from barely known to high-profile professionals, all the time, the media cooking up a snowstorm of background information to their pasts, yet hopefully not to the secrets Lucas and Brooke had managed to hide beneath false smiles and plain gold bands.

He still hated night times, when he'd lay in bed with Peyton, not naked, never naked really anymore, as Brooke lay down the hall, not crying, never crying really anymore, and the clock just kept ticking.

His life was getting harder, but less and less complicated at the same time.

He just had to wait for everything to unravel.

Brooke had been living in that bedroom for what seemed like years. Time had lost all meaning to her, though the secret swelling of her stomach was trying to get her to remember.

Peyton had asked her questions about what she was going to do on numerous occasions. The blonde hadn't really probed, but had attempted to get her to make up her mind as E! 

ran a ridiculous 'Brooke Davis-Adams: The Fallen Calla Lily Princess' documentary, highlighting speculation about the brunette's possible pregnancy.

July's rumours were nearing the truth.

**X**

It was the way she was sat at the kitchen table, all hunched over like she was freezing, even in the 70 degree heat that made a lump form in his throat . Her arms were folded across her chest, her eyes staring straight ahead as though she hadn't realised he'd entered the room.

"Brooke, what are you doing?" Lucas asked when he spied the bags sat beside her feet.

"Leaving here."

"Well where are you going to go? I thought..."

"You thought what Luke?" The brunette asked tiredly. "That I'd just stay here playing happy families with you and Peyton during the day while you sneak into my room at night?"

"I just thought..."

"I can't stay here. Peyton's going to Chigaco for a couple days and you and I-we can't stay here together."

"Why not?"

"Because it's too damn hard!" She erupted, hands clenching at the placemats on the table as her eyes clouded over.

"I thought you wanted us to be together?" Lucas asked.

"I did! I _do._ But you seem hell-bent on staying with Peyton so I'm not going to do this to myself anymore."

"Brooke I love you okay? I'm _in love_ with you, more than I've ever been in love with anyone before."

"So what's the problem?"

"The book." He answered simply. "There's loads of press releases to do and..."

"For God's sake Lucas, the book shouldn't matter!

"Well it does okay? It matters."

Brooke scoffed, and Lucas shifted his weight from one foot to the other, all the while staring at the brunette before him.



"Have you read the book Brooke?"

"No."

"Here." He said simply, making his way to the dark wood bookcase just out in the hallway, returning with a hardback copy of the book. "You might learn what I mean."

"I'm supposed to just waste my time sitting here reading?" She questioned, bags still by her feet.

Lucas only shrugged. "If you've got more important things to do, don't bother. I just thought you might try it since you don't exactly have a job to go to right now."

She threw him a hurt look, snapping up from the chair quickly in a flurry of heartbreak and anger right as Peyton walked in the doorway, having witnessed the last part of their conversation.

"Nice Lucas." The blonde muttered sarcastically. "Real nice."

"I didn't mean it like that, I thought it would give her something to do."

"She's got enough on her mind without having to be pressured into reading that damn book."

"That damn book is paying for this house!" Lucas erupted. "And would it kill you to feign a little interest about my writing?"

"Would it kill you to feign a little interest about _mine_?"

"I just got close to a six figure publishing deal and you want me to talk about some conference in Chigaco you're going to?"

Peyton simply shook her head. "This is the stupidest fight we've ever had."

"I know..." He trailed off, rubbing his jaw. "Well...is it?"

"What?"

"Is it really that stupid? I mean, when did we stop supporting each other in our careers?"

"Don't be stupid Lucas." Peyton rolled her eyes. "We support each other."

"By fighting?"

"We go to awards ceremonies and premiers together."

"Yeah, and when people ask if we're happily married, we lie."

"It's not a lie to me." Peyton replied quietly.



"Peyton we haven't been happily married for a long time."

The blonde frowned at her husband. "Maybe you haven't." She shrugged before turning to leave. "But I thought I was."

He was left then, standing alone in the kitchen with his book on the table, pristine and untouched, and Brooke's bags still on the floor beside the table.

And he wasn't sure which room to avoid the most.

**X**

She hadn't felt the tears slipping down her face. Perhaps she was beginning to get used to the feeling of salty streams against expensive blusher, or she just didn't care anymore. Either way, as her shaky hand turned the page of Lucas' book, the other clasped over her mouth as she realised everything that he'd written was about her, she failed to notice Lucas slip into the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

"Brooke, I'm sorry about earlier, I just didn't mean it how..."

"It's a great book Lucas." She said softly, fingering the front cover of the book slowly with her four fingers. "And Lucie, she's..."

"You." He cut in, holding himself back from her as his arms twitched by his side, desperate to be around her shoulders, her waist maybe, holding her hands. "I wanted to ask your permission Brooke, I really did, but I didn't think you'd go for it."

"I wouldn't have."

"But now you're not with _him_, you don't have to worry."

"I don't have to worry about what?" She sniffed, clenching her cold fingers around the hard casing.

"Anything. You can stay here as long as you want, or I have money if you want an apartment of your own, if you..."

"I don't want your money Lucas!" She cried. "Don't you get it? I just want you. I need you."

"Didn't you once tell me that you didn't need any man?" He questioned, tried to joke, but when her face crumpled, he knew there was something else. He'd never seen Brooke that broken.

"I'm pregnant Lucas."

* * *


	14. July's Truth

**A/N- **Thanks so much for all your reviews guys, here's chapter 14, and so that leaves just one (or maybe two depending on how it all fits together) chapter left! Please read and review :)

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 14: July's Truth

"How many months?" Lucas asked after what seemed to Brooke like hours of silence.

"I don't know."

"How many months?" He asked again, this time with his voice raised and his blue eyes widened.

"Too many."

He knew what too many meant. Too many meant it was too late to make a decision.

"No." He shook his head. "No this isn't right, I mean, you'd be showing by now right?...Or maybe, I don't know...maybe you've worked it out wrong."

He wasn't sure what hit his chest when she lifted up her lose shirt to reveal a little protruding stomach, the waistband of her jeans hanging tighter below.

"I didn't work it out wrong Lucas." She said softly. "I'm pregnant, and-"

"Is it mine?"

She hung her head, and Lucas felt his chest tighten even more. "I...It could be."

"Well either it is or it isn't Brooke!"

"I don't know okay!" She shouted, her eyes filled with tears. "I don't know if it's yours Luke, I don't know if it's Chase's, I just...it's such a mess."

He didn't say anything more, just left the room in silence, rubbing the back of his neck harshly as he exhaled, leaving Brooke to shudder at the hard sound of the front door slamming a couple seconds later.

-

The papers all questioned the same thing.

'**Why is Scott so Angry?'**

'**Marriage Troubles for Lucas Scott?'**

'**Davis putting strain on Scott's Marriage?'**

He'd rubbished them the next day of course, with a fake smile he'd perfected under the influence of Brooke, saying that he was just tired from the press he'd been doing for his new book.



That same book both disguised and threw into the open his continuing marriage breakdown at the same time.

Lucas Scott was heading for burnout.

He'd signed the papers days ago, with a shaking hand, a fleeting glance at the large sum of money to be taken from his bank account by the seller, as the realtor promised absolute discreetness on the situation.

Lucas only looked down, ashamed.

His call to Brooke now, was short and anything but sweet, telling her to meet him at the corner of East 48th because he had something for her. He added a quick "Please", because manners still meant a lot, and he figured he owed Brooke at least that after days of avoiding one another.

So when she showed up confused, no paparazzi tailing her for once, Lucas fought to explain.

"I'm telling Peyton." He said. "When the sale goes through, I'll tell her."

"When what sale goes through?"

"That one." He replied, pointing up at the tall building across the street. "Our apartment."

"_Our_ apartment?"

"I want to be with you Brooke. You and the baby-"

"So you just bought an apartment without telling me?" She cut in.

"I had to! It's not like we could go house-hunting together."

"But why straight away? It all seems so...seedy."

"Because the sooner we have somewhere to live together, properly, the sooner we can tell Peyton. And it's probably best if you're not there when I tell her, I don't want her taking any of this out on you." Lucas said. "None of this is your fault, I should be the one who explains."

"But what if you're not... What if you decide you don't want to be..." She trailed off, still staring up at the building.

"I want to be with you." Lucas repeated. "Me being, or not being the baby's biological father won't change that."

"It might. You might think that you can do this now, but what if Chase wants custody? What if he wins?"



"These are all what if's Brooke." He said, taking hold of her hand. "I love you. And right now, we don't need any more than that."

"And you'll tell Peyton as soon as this goes through?"

"The minute that apartment is ours, I'll tell her."

"When will it be ours?"

"Any time in the next few days."

When she smiled at him, her real proper smile, it was the happiest he'd felt in what felt like months.

"She's going to hate me." Brooke said softly, looking up at the building a last time.

"I think she already hates me, deep down." Lucas replied. "But I'd rather her hate me than have... this... destroy her. She deserves more than this."

"You think it would?" Brooke asked. "Destroy her I mean."

Lucas shook his head. "She's always been strong. I think she knows as well as I do that we just aren't working as a couple anymore."

"But you loved each other once." Brooke said cautiously. "You might feel like this about me."

"Brooke, I've never felt for Peyton, or for anyone what I feel for you."

"But you'll be there?" She asked. "For me and this baby? Because I'm not sure I can do this on my own."

"You know you could Brooke." Lucas replied. "But you're not going to."

-

Lucas arrived back first to find pieces of paper strewn across the hallway, and then his stomach lurched as he reached the bookcase, finding copies of his book on the floor, most with all pages missing.

She wasn't crying, wasn't doing anything really, when he walked into the living room. She was just sat there, staring straight ahead, more pieces of paper covering the floor as she held the front cover only, limply from her fingertips.

"Everyone was right." She said, taking a breath. "All the magazines, the news, the papers, everyone. And I defended you! I defended me, and Brooke and our marriage. And you know who I blamed?" She was shouting by now as Lucas just stood there and watched her, waited, let her say what she had to say.



"I blamed Chase! I blamed him for doing that to Brooke, for making her miserable, but she was the cheating whore who made a fool out of me and him!"

He winced as the words left Peyton's mouth, and turned his head sharply as the front door opened and closed again, a small gasp coming from the hallway.

"How long?" Peyton demanded as Brooke entered the room, shirt completely covering her stomach from any signs of pregnancy. "I said, how long have you been _fucking_ my husband?"

"Peyton, I..."

"I said HOW LONG Brooke!?" Peyton screamed as the brunette stood beside Lucas, not daring to let a tear escape her eyes.

"Since the Winter."

"And you put it in your damn book!" She shouted at Lucas. "You couldn't even tell me, I had to find out by myself, and now the whole world knows the freaking story...some love story this is!" She threw the cover onto the floor beside the rest of the pages. "Well you know what, I hope you go the same way as you're supposed to in the book." Peyton spat at Brooke. "Vodka and pills is a cheat's way out after all."

"Peyton...I..." Lucas faltered, but she ignored him, reaching into her pocket to pull out a crumpled piece of paper.

"Here." She slapped it against his chest. "Must be some nice apartment to cost that much."

Brooke only stood there, not daring to say anything, not even daring to move as Lucas took the paper, scanning it quickly.

"I want you out."

Lucas only lowered his head, silently cursing the realtor for sending the invoice receipt to his home instead of his office. This wasn't how he'd wanted it to be. He was supposed to tell Peyton, not have her find out in some soap opera-type way.

And then he watched as she turned her eyes to Brooke, before bringing her hand up to her mouth, shaking her head.

"Oh my God. It could be his baby isn't it? It could be Lucas' baby!"

Brooke still said nothing, just waited as Lucas had done earlier.

"No wonder you didn't want him to find out, knowing he'd think you were a slut just like the rest of the world will."

"Peyton that's enough." Lucas cut in quickly.



"No." The blonde shook her head. "It's not nearly enough, not after what you two have done. And you couldn't even be discreet about it, you had to put it in that damn book for everyone to read, get them on your side before they won't buy the fucking sequel!"

"Peyton there's no sequel, this wasn't about us, it's not about sides..."

"Well I'm sure there's enough here for you to write one!" Her eyes narrowed further, and Brooke shifted her weight from one foot to another as Peyton turned back to her. "And after everything I did for you, after I tried to help you when I found those bruises, when I flew back from my vacation! And all the time you were screwing my husband behind my back. Forget being a model." She spat. "Try acting. Seems you're already good at it."

-

He could only apologise for the way it all ended. He wouldn't apologise for everything with Brooke – he wasn't sorry it had happened. But he was sorry for putting the brunette through everything she shouldn't have had to go through.

He just wanted to protect her from everything that had already happened, from every scar that remained on her back, from every twist of pain still when she lifted anything too heavy, from the bruises and the cracked bones that had now healed (superficially of course).

He wanted to keep her from it all, and yet he knew she'd remember every last blow.

Lucas Scott was just sorry he hadn't met Brooke Davis earlier.

And July's truth was out.

* * *


	15. Calla Lily

**A/N- **This is it! The last chapter! So I intended there to be another one before this, but when I read it back, it just didn't flow. So then I wrote this, and settled on this for the ending, just because I think (even though it's short) it ties everything together. **So thank you to everyone who has reviewed :) **And all that I ask is that you review just one more time for this end chapter :)

Gracie xxx

**Nude, With Calla Lilies**

Chapter 15: Calla Lily

She was perfect; all twelve inches of her from the wisps of dark brown hair to the tiny toenails on each tiny foot. Her blue eyes were big and round, her eyelashes long and dainty, lips pressed together in concentration as her eyes followed the bounding dog along the sand.

They named her Calla Lily, for reasons obvious to anyone who knew their story, and for the simple fact that their daughter was the purest thing that could have come out of all of this.

She looked just like Lucas, with Brooke's hair and infamous dimples.

The press had camped outside the hospital, and Brooke feared the media worst. But a couple snaps later, Calla to them, was old news, much to the relief of Lucas who had slept in front of the door, just inside Brooke's room.

He's have slept by the door every night if he'd had to.

-

Brooke had spent just four weeks in their New York apartment, Lucas, three.

The city just hadn't felt right after everything that had happened, and after Peyton filed for divorce, the press were hot on their tale at every move. So when Lucas suggested they move somewhere quieter, somewhere people wouldn't know them, (because after all, he was only an author who'd had an affair, and she was only the soon-to-be-ex-wife of somebody who happened to be in the public eye before any of it happened) she'd thought suburbia, or perhaps even the country.

The fresh air would do them all good, Brooke had thought, even more so when the baby arrived.

But when Lucas had showed her his laptop, photos of different houses in Maui, she wasn't sure what to think.

Now, Hawaii was more of a home than New York ever was.

-

They had a pretty house right on the beach, with hundreds of tropical flowers for colour and palm trees for shade. It wasn't huge, wasn't small either, just understated, but with plenty of room for the three of them, and for their dog Angus.



Brooke had argued it was a stupid name, that a), it didn't suit the thing, and B), it didn't sound remotely Hawaiian. Lucas had argued that Angus was a man's name and as their dog was, well, a man, it was fitting. And besides, even though he'd agreed to (and loved) Calla Lily, he hadn't chosen the name, and he wanted to choose something.

She'd given in then, and now smiled with their daughter on her lap as Lucas tried relentlessly to get Angus to fetch the stick he kept throwing into the water. Calla giggled, white sundress blowing against her golden skin as Brooke bounced her, shielding her own eyes from the sun as Lucas shook his head, walking back up towards them in defeat.

They rarely discussed Peyton. The day after he sent back the signed divorce papers was the day they silently agreed that now it was just the three (or four including Angus) of them. There was still the odd media stab now and again, but with old pictures, and their past didn't seem to bother their local neighbours who didn't really care that Lucas had had an affair with the subject of his wife's breakthrough painting. They didn't care that Brooke had been married to the biggest shipping lothario, perhaps ever, and they really didn't care that Calla was the innocent product in all of it.

They'd read Lucas' books and seen Brooke's face. That was all.

Lucas hadn't told anyone that didn't need to know their new address, hadn't wanted to, hadn't felt the need, and so invites to the awards ceremonies that had once been part of his life might have been swimming around with other lost post, the rsvps left unreplied.

Life was different in Hawaii, not abnormal, not cut off from civilisation, but peaceful, tranquil, better.

When Lucas had worried that their finances might run out if he stopped selling books or failed to write another hit, Brooke had laughed, waved it away saying if needs be, she'd get a job in a coffee shop or at a beach bar, one where she could meet blonde blue-eyed surfers and flaunt herself in a bikini.

Lucas had rolled his eyes and promised her that it would never come to that.

-

They hadn't married, hadn't even discussed marriage, and didn't need to. Calla was commitment enough for them, and paperwork wouldn't change how things were.

He'd propose one day, Lucas thought, lying in bed with Calla in between him and Brooke. They'd walk along the beach in simple white clothing, a few years later, perhaps after a couple more kids, two boys and another girl. Calla would sprinkle flower petals before them, petals of calla lilies, barefoot with a pretty dress and curls in her hair.

"You're thinking." Brooke smiled, planting a kiss on their daughter's forehead, making her squeal as Lucas turned towards the two of them.



"I know."

"About what?"

"Us. Her." He nodded towards Calla, smiling as she grabbed his finger with her hand. This is what he'd missed out on for so many years of married life, and now he couldn't imagine going back to how things had been in New York, to the sneaking and the lying, the cheating and the rumours.

They just laid there in happy silence, content to watch their daughter as she tugged at the bed linen with clumsy fists. And it couldn't have been a better advert for happiness if they'd tried.

* * *

End.


End file.
